In July, I returned home. For months leading up to that trip, I stared out my kitchen window thinking about it. Because my heart constantly calls for home. Even when doing the dishes.
I’ve been thinking a lot about what home is and means and the privilege I have in being able to return to my home knowing I’ll be welcome there. (I’ll probably post on that later.) But I also still feel like I’m constantly stuck between two worlds longing for one that doesn’t even exist anymore. What do I do with that?
This time, I just did the dishes.
To cope
I stand in
Quiet moments looking out
The kitchen window over the sink
Where I have used the
Blinds to perfectly frame
The shed we
Hand built
This way
I see only
Green grass and the
Bottom of a barn and
Can imagine that the green goes
On for hundreds of acres
And in that moment
I can feel
At home
Even though I’m
Not
Well, kinda
But not really
I’m forever in-between
Here
doesn’t feel like
home
But the home I go back
To visit isn’t the home
I left because time
Kept on a-movin
When I did
So now I steal
Glimpses of an
Imagined home that
Feels like my heart
Wants it to
And, now, these dishes
Ain’t gonna do themselves.
