Home

I remember home.

The waves crash on the beach, and love is being surrounded by salt air and a little hand holding tight.

The slowness of life.

We visited a family who let go of labor, electricity, and effort from sun-up to sundown once a week. Cockroaches had an otherworldly quality, emerging from the sand when dusk arrived.

Home can be a place, a person, or a feeling.

Sometimes it is all at once. Remove one from the equation and suddenly you are thrust out upon the ocean, batted about by waves tens of feet high. The physical absence of my mother is as strong as the spiritual force that no longer governs my life.

People say, perhaps not always in words but still, with surprise,  “you miss your mom?”

As if, by some chance or, well, willpower, I should have forgotten her. “Oh is that still bothering you?”

Yes, I guess it is. I bought a new shirt because the old one finally ripped beyond repair. Apologies that I am still without a home, perhaps next time we meet I will have changed my tune to suit your mood.

Home is the ocean and my mother. And I miss both.

Advertisements

One thought on “Home”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s