Home is where the heart is

I have moved so many times
since leaving my childhood home
It has long since been a structure, an address
But rather a place inside myself
where I retreat to when I need
to find solace from life’s events.
It is the pictures on my wall
tucked away in albums and notebooks
triggering memories
of events, of people
that help create my home
wherever I am
in that moment

There is a list
of all the places I have lived
An in those places, most of life was lived
outside of the structure which kept me separate
from the world outside
Instead, my home was in that world.

The exception was childhood.
My memories from then are inside the house
we built as a family
and the land surrounding it.
1636 Hidden Meadow Drive
After my parents divorced
and my brother died
Home then became that place within me
wherever that may have been
on any day or night
Because the structures
changed often

Home shifts in time
It is not a place,
an object, or a memory
It is a solid part of our being
that holds us together
with the love we have

But with each other
we are constant
We are home
Home is my love My husband My son Myself


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