Home… what does it mean to me…
Is it something one can take with them
To store in their heart, fold it and pocket it
For when they are worlds apart…
Does it leave you wanting more?
Or do you yearn for change.
As a child, my home was the same,
Then on the cusp of adolescence things began to change,
Just six or seven paces away, another home to stay, another place to play,
Then another and another…
Geographically short distances apart, yet cracks began to take part,
A teen now, I questioned what even is a home?
When I must constantly move, when I must constantly grow.
Slightly taciturn on it all but I’m still okay, on we moved to the next place…
Each home provided new memories and new spaces,
Exciting moments, I’m proud to say we dealt with in graces,
“We’re selling”, “Our daughter had a baby!”, “We’re retiring” they’d say,
Running out of creative way to say we walked out the doorway.
Onto the next, boy, this had room for all,
At this point change was subconsciously easy and small,
Yet this too ended within the year,
And so we ended up here.
I moved in slightly contemptuously, as I struggled to find a cool way to say,
“I live with my 90 year old grandparents”
But it was here, leaving my teenage years, only slightly wiser
The mystery of home I began to decipher…
It is this:
Home is where the heart is.
It’s corny, but its true.
Home is merely a place,
The question I ask is, who is it filled with… who?
