Home. Where I shed my coat, my day, my tears. Where we said things we wanted to take back and sat in silence when there was too much to say.
Where small feet pattered to the same six hiding places over and over again until none of us could stand to hide or seek again—at least until the next day.
Doors were slammed, by accident, or as a fiery kind of exclamation point. Dinners were brought home in containers or cooked on the gas stove, eaten and spilled. Books were scattered on tables, the floor and in the cubby under the stars by someone desperate for a quiet escape.
Drains clogged. Garbages were tossed. Beds outgrown. Bathrooms renovated. And no matter what color we painted the walls, it was and is—home.
2 Replies to “Home”
H.O.M.E.
Wow, you really said all that. And you said all that on a postcard.
It spoke volumes to me with the efficiency of one who has learned her craft well.
Happy Thanksgiving, girlfriend. From My Home to Yours.
Thank you so much, Michelle. Happy Thanksgiving to you and your family!
Word of the Year-2025
For my 2025 word of the year, I chose COURAGE. I know, it’s not the most original pick—but hear me out. Something about courage stuck with me this time, especially after watching a documentary on The Tragically Hip. For those unfamiliar, they’re kind of a Canadian thing. A band that
Hinterland is Real
They say seeing is believing. I didn’t know what that meant until that night. I was coming home late, later than I should, and I knew I was going to catch heck. Momma didn’t even pretend to be patient when me or my sister wasn’t home in time for dinner.
Deadly Mist
The mist crept closer, slithering across the boot prints she left behind on the soft, moist ground. She urged her legs to go faster over the uneven path. A leafless tree grabbed at the flying strands of her long silver hair as she ran past. They hung like shiny tinsel