Homesick

Home isn't the arched doorway leading into my living room or the gray blue walls that warm the kitchen despite the cold stone tiles.  Home isn't the fireplace that seems more cold than warm, or an upstairs view on a downtown world.  Home is a place that is missed like the sound of silence on a cold winter's night when everything is so still you can hear the sound of the snow itself falling flake by flake.

 

And how I wish I could go back to where I was, tucked away in my quiet world where nothing manmade broke the stillness of the night.  Home with the grass filled field across the way and a backyard so big it went on for miles in a sea of green.  To the place where I could sit alone under the cover of darkness and turn my face  to the stars above, feeling safe and far removed from the glare of streetlights and the harsh sounds of a city always on its way to somewhere.

 

But I can't take back the mistake I made, and the home I left for little more than false hope, empty words and broken promises.  I can't right the wrong that rocked my world and stole my daughter away from the innocence of climbing trees, the sunshine days of our summers.  I can only learn my lesson and learn it well. 

 

Only leave home when you have everything to gain and nothing at all to lose.