Warm

food and

cozy evenings.

The days that make me

want to stay inside. Cold winters,

rainy springs, unable to keep in that 

warmth. Loud movies and louder laughter.

We stray from the conventional and nuclear, but

we keep each other in mind. These blocks of drywall and

plaster, each telling their own story of those who inhabit it. My

block is my own, and changes with me, just like the place I choose to

call home. Forever changing with different feelings and different looks.

———————————————————————————————-

When I look into the room, I see a reflection looking back at me

Not a mirror, not a clone, but the other place that I used to call

home. Young and unknowing, the lights in its eyes don’t dim.

Full of life and unknowing of who and what lies ahead. I couldn’t

have known. I couldn’t have seen what could possibly be. When 

I reach out and touch it, the illusion disappears. Into something

that I never had learned to fear. It was harsh, and it was cold. It

was everything that I didn’t know. Its streets were loud, and the

     voices were older. I couldn’t see the me that I once thought I knew,

       but a shadow of the original laid beneath the figure standing before me. Like sugarcane, like lovo, like the rainy days and damp

streets. Those vendors selling spices and those selling live chickens.

——————————————————————————-

        Warm food and cozy evenings. The days that make me want to stay inside. I find myself surrounded by warmth and laughter once again.

This feeling never left, but it feels different from what it once was.

Forever changing. Forever warm. That is home.