Shower Spiders

I know I am home because there is a spider in the corner of my shower.

Growing up, it was an unspoken rule between my siblings and I:

You do not kill the spider.

Under any circumstances.

I don't exactly know how it happened,

But the rule stuck,

And the spider stayed,

A resident in the corner of our shared shower,

Keeping us company

In our most vulnerable moments.

As I stepped into my shower today,

I noticed an all too familiar face;

One I had not seen in many years.

Though I've moved,

Place to place,

Over the course of my 20s,

This spider never seemed to follow me -

Until now.

I am 900 miles from the house I once called a home.

But it seems I am home again,

As home is where the spider is.

I've come to realize,

That I've cultivated my space

To reflect the many

Moving

Aspects of my life.

I see my childhood bathroom;

It's green,

All the same.

Though the muted color I picked at 25 is better

Than the lime I fought for as a tween.

I see a leather couch;

Just like the kind my siblings and I used to jump on as kids.

My childhood dog, Daisy, made a crease in the corner,

And my current dogs are destroying our current couch in similar ways.

Of course, the dogs;

Though they change,

Coming in different shapes, sizes, and colors,

Their familiar companionship remains the same.

I see the pond in my backyard,

And I'm reminded of the times

Our father entered us in the trout fishing derby.

Oh,

How I love those memories.

I see a Tiffany style lamp on my desk

Everyday,

And it reminds me of the one

Dangling

From the ceiling in my nana's kitchen.

I see so many things;

They remind me of the people

I love

And of the memories

I made with them.

My home is an eclectic assortment

Of the taste I've cultivated

Through years of being with family,

Inside family homes.

Now,

I know.

Home is where the spider is.