Home

Home was weekends.

It was overeating and watching 'say yes to the dress'

Home was a dingy house my mother swore she wanted to burn down.

It was karaoke and Christmas Eve,

Home was listening to you play the Piano.

It was searching over mountains of bought goods

for the one thing you'd sent me in to find.

Home was explaining cookies in a computer

and watching you get mad and ask who put them there.

Home was how you commented

on every Facebook post I'd made.

Home was making yummy cookies

and scraping the mold off of cheese.

It was a judgement free space

full of love, humility and grace.

Home wasn't ever really a place.

It was where you were.