I miss the feeling of home
Where I can have a conversation
Longer than two minutes
And look into a friends eyes and know that they see me
That kind of home.
A
“Home is whenever I’m with you” type, home when the colors of the night sky alone bring back memories of the past and bring hope for future memories to come.
The ice pop sky and the cold sandbox
where we talked about life the universe an everything. The playground where we sat in mutual anger
so
much
so
That we were unified for life. The car where we sat in silence listening to our favorite songs and the bedroom walls that we decorated with the treasures of our time. Spent. Together.
The different kinds of laughs, happy, angry, nervous and the laugh that feebly tried to cover up your tears is home to me. That kind of knowing. Understanding connection. Being.
I miss being home where everything isn’t okay but it’s beautiful and forgiving and sweet like the air on a breezy fall afternoon. I want to curl up in the grey sheep clouds on that one afternoon where you still are in my mind. Home.
