On home.

February 28, 2013 § Leave a comment

What is it about home that makes you always want to come back? What is it about your childhood bed that remains “your bed” no matter how often you actually get to sleep on it? Or the sound of the wood-floor creaking or the faucet leaking or the rain dropping on the old, bent glass windows? What is it about the smell that permeates your nose of chocolate croissants or the chocolate chip cookies cooking in the oven? What is it about the endless stacks of books you promise you’ll get through or read again? Or the comfy red couch that forms to your body? Or your dog’s slobber as he licks your wound? What is it about the sound of your mom’s, dad’s, brother’s, sister’s, grandparents’, aunts’, uncles’, cousins’ voices waking you up from sleep? Or the softness of your favorite, worn-down sheets? Or the familiar view outside your window, no matter how magnificent or bare? What is it about the laughter, the tears and the screams that your home claims to be his? Tell me, what is it about that feeling you get when you walk inside the door and realize you’re home?


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