Searching

I’ve been searching for home for as long as I can remember.

In people and in places, even in the most intangible of things.

But, what I’ve come to realize is that home has always been with me.

I wipe it from my eyes every morning, and lay with it in my arms every night.

Home has followed me throughout the entirety of my life.

It wraps around me like the warmest of memories.

Home lives in the taste of sweet, bitter coffee.

It is the scent of cigarette smoke and imported mints.

Home is the sound of laughter and passionate conversation.

It dances in the sight of every newborn cousin,

And feels like hot stew on a rainy day.

Home is a wish that I’ve whispered on silent, hopeful lips.

A seed planted faithlessly, yet watered in good faith all the same.

I used to think home was a place,

I once thought I’d find home in the planes of a lover’s face.

Truthfully, it seems that home is where the heart is indeed,

And how lucky have I been to discover that that heart

Lies within me.