Home

Home

Home is…

Well I’m not a hundred percent sure what it is but, I can tell you what it feels like.

Home feels like cool flowing water from a creek gently swishing over your feet.

The kind of swish that makes you feel like you could just sit in it all day and breathe.

The kind of swish that’s nippy to the touch but warms your heart.

The kind of swish that on the wrong day can make everything feel so right.

Home is a quiet breeze that almost seems to whisper as it passionately kisses your ear like an unseen feather of the angels.

That unbelievably heartbreaking tenderness that makes your soul weep with melancholy and jubilation.

Home feels like the sun.

The warmth and kindness that exalts all the worlds treasures with a beautiful ray of light that can’t be matched by any mans creation.

That supple warmth that shoots beams of heavenly rays into the darkest crevices of your mind.

The kind of warmth that could break even Lucifer from his destructive ways.

Home feels like snow.

The kind of snow that causes body’s to freeze and eyes to dry out.

The kind of snow that’s brash and misleading.

Snow that haunts your dreams and tackles your hopes.

Snow that pierced your body and sends doubt rushing through your entirety.

Home feels like falling.

Even further than Alice fell when she plunged into the rabbit hole.

The kind of fall where you pray there’s no bottom all the while knowing what lays beneath your dissent.

The kind of fall that makes your hands clammy, teeth grind, and ears steam.

Home feels like soft hugs that reak of the most delicious odors to the human psyche.

Mom, dad, baked bread, sister, brother, cookies, dog, cat, bird, secret ingredients, fish, uncle, grandma, pie, auntie, grandpa etc.

the memory of all of those odors can make a person happy and also sad.

Those odors could one day leave and then what would we do?

Home is the sorrow of a beautifully tragic goodbye.

The kind of goodbye that fights you tooth and nail against your chances of survival after.

The type of goodbye that you feel you’ll never come back from.

The kind of goodbye that could cause you to have your own.

The sort of goodbye that wrings your neck and threatens you for days with all its details and repetition.

Home…

Everything that is, was, or will be.

That could or could not be.

That will or won’t be.

Home is love and all these things are made up of love.

Made up from love.

There’s no one explanation or one right or wrong answer for home.

Home just is.

Home is Home.