The young couple and their two small sons Drive from the city to pay for and take the keys To my old family Volvo — a car, like a house, Full of memories, full of departures and returns. They swarm inside as if it were a hive, The children bouncing on the seats, the mother admonishing. Though I’d anticipated sadness, their joy overcomes me, The joy of something new and unfamiliar, the history That will begin with their journey back to where they live. The husband pulls away from the curb, and the wife Follows in the car they drove so far to get here With their cargo of kids and a cooler full of food. The last vestige of our marriage: I imagined I would cry, but I smile and wave from the front steps in early summer As they drive away, amazed at their good luck.