Month: April 2015


Home is a very flexible word
I place in my best friend’s heart, a house
He keeps it warm and leaves blankets for me when I am cold
Home is my father’s scruffy beard and his pot belly and his gigantic bear hugs
Home is my little brother’s laugh
Infrequent but lovely, a sound I would do anything for
Home is the space between my kitten and me on a rainy night
Snuggling for warmth
Home is my old house that breathes history and loved ones and sleepovers and life.
Home is a very flexible thing
Home is not a singular place for me
Home is where I can leave my heart, a dear part of me
And knowing when I return, it is completely intact.

I saw a photograph today

and it broke me down

you know what I mean?

It reminded me of what I’ve wanted all my life.

Memories and life.

Breathing fresh air like it’s my last and truly appreciating it.

I want the broken glass in the standing mirror.
I’ll remember kicking it by accident stumbling in one night.
And knowing we can’t replace it
But it’s ok
I want our mattress on the floor
Knowing we spent the money saved for the bed frame
on groceries and food for the cat
And that is perfectly fine.

I want the tiny night stand we use as a dresser
And the huge rail we found to hang our clothing
Because his dresser couldn’t fit in the car when we left
I want that experience, because that is who I am.

I am not a new home with decorative pillows.
I am not a spotless living room with a shag rug and matching wall art.
I am not a leather couch with a plastic cover.

I am the light shining in on a Sunday morning, the rays of sun on your face
I am the shitty ottoman we leave in our kitchen
So he can sit and keep me company as I cook
because we don’t have a dining room set.

I am life at it’s beginning
I am a beautiful struggle
I am life when love is all you see around.