My aunt's house is very old
It's been in our family for years
I went to stay in it once
I slept in a cramped spare bedroom
With just enough room for a bed
I often found myself staring out the window
At the garden and neighbouring houses
And wondering who had stood here before me
Gazing out over the same view
None of us important enough to be remembered
I instinctively looked for a place to leave my name
Finding many others had done the same
Dozens of names etched into the stones
That lined the narrow windowsill
My mum's and grandma's among them
So I carved my name there too
And so it remains, with the rest of my family
Evidence that we existed, crying out
We were here! We lived! We are real!
One day, it will be joined no doubt
By more names, more reminders