The Way Home

{My husband believes that our house slants towards whichever room I am in at the moment and that our kids are like marbles on a floor that gravitationally roll into wherever I am.  It’s summer now, and I’ve been feeling those marbles under my feet whenever I try to turn around in my kitchen.  I decided to stop complaining about stepping on marbles all the time; you can’t fight gravity.} ***

The Way Home

They are the moths and I am the flame. They are the waves and I am the shoreline. They are the feathers and I am the ground.

They need me, they search for me, they find me in a way that leads me to believe it is as natural and necessary as when they grew inside of me.

Someday, more than likely, I will be the moth and the wave and the feather.

And I will need them and search for them and find them because it will be the natural and necessary way to find my way home.


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