This Isn’t Home Anymore
I spent the first ten years of my life surrounded by love and happiness. The two-story house was painted green, with a few chips and cracks. Concrete steps with my tiny hand prints forever planted in them led to the big, wooden front door of my childhood. My room was the biggest in the house, or what felt like it to 7 year-old me. I was carried to bed and tucked in every night, with an "I love you" and kisses on the cheek. My mom was my best friend and I was daddy's little girl.
Ten years later, that house is gone along with my father and all of the happiness shared in it. He loved booze more than us and some days, I fear I am just like him. This house is quiet and less homey. The chips and cracks have moved from the outside, to the inside. Daddy's little girl has become his worst nightmare and he destroyed our home.
My Granny
Summer in the garden,
Fall playing in the leaves,
Spring planting tulips,
Winter spent decorating the tree.
Watching the birds,
Fishing in the creek.
Holding my hand,
Until the very end.
Her laugh was contagious,
Smile infectious.
Her voice sounded like home,
I sure do miss it.
All I have are memories
Of who you once were
Until my last day,
Always wanting more.
Where is Home?
Home is hearing your children laugh at your husband from three rooms away while he's tucking them in and reading a bedtime story. It's messy faces and full stomachs.
Home is walking down Main Street and being greeted by familiar faces, all of them wondering where time went. And always saying, "Have a nice day," to the young girl bagging groceries at the market.
Home is driving to your favorite place and watching the sunset, with radio as loud as it can go. It's laughing until your ribs ache with those who love you best.
Home isn't only four walls. It's happiness and forgiveness and everything in between.
Home sounds like such a wonderful place, I can't wait to find my own.