Going Home

Home is beckoning

I long to run my fingers

down my cat’s back

hear his plaintive meow

when he’s hungry

I miss the loud calls

of my birds as they speak

to one another across the room

 

I miss my home

Not just the curtains or the furniture

But the my-ness of home

all the things that make it

uniquely mine

 

memories of my kids that linger

in the air like a fine mist

I can hardly wait to open the

door and step into the world that

my husband and I have created