A Taste Of Home

What is home?

I went home two months ago for a week to tell my family goodbye and to get my belongings to move to my new home. I talk to my family at least once a week. I don't talk to my dad quite like I want to though. But I know everytime I have talked to him since Spring he has told me of this garden he was working on. He was SO proud of this garden and told me about all the different fruits and vegetables he was planting. He told me of the hours of labor he was putting it. All the tilling and hoeing.. all the rain that was coming...that was becoming to much. His constant battles with raccoon, deer, and coyotes. My dad is a story teller and when I say that I mean it in the since of he can tell a story like no other. The details and  the way he told it I imagined this garden great and amazing. When I pulled up at the house after a two hour drive I was BLOWN away by this garden! It was unreal. It was my dads pride and joy. Corn and beans, berries and melons. peppers upon peppers. I walked past the garden and walked past this tiny black cat. Bailey is his name. My step mom had told me tons about this cat. I walked in the house and immediately the smell of home cooked meal passed my nose. I looked down and my dads work boots were next to the door.  My step mom, Tonya, in front of the stove cooking up a storm. My dad came down the hallway and  gave me the biggest hug I had had since I left for Colorado. It was so nice being home. Nothing had changed and it was perfect.

One of my sisters and her husband and daughter were there to say hello. Dad made steaks for dinner and we all ate until we couldn't breathe. We talked about adventures I had been on and they talked to me and offered there better advice for some of the dumber things I had done. We talked of my new house and work. We talked about if I would move home and they encouraged me to follow my dreams and do what was going to make me happy. They told me how proud they were and how they couldn't think of anything better I could be doing at this time in my life. It was so hard to keep tears back while they said all these amazing things.

After dinner Dad and I decided to walk around the garden so he could show me everything. We just walked around and looked for ripe tomatoes and watermelons. I itched to pick everything; ripe or not.

                                                                                                                           
I found my way to the blueberry bush and ate handfuls at a time. So sweet and delicious.  My niece had joined us at this point. We picked them together and shared some laughs and smiles.  Alabama summer days; I forgot how hot they were. My dad went back inside and so did my niece. I walked around for a bit and with every step I took I almost felt like I could swim through the air. But all I could do was smile. I had missed home so much and my heart was full now that I was here.

                                                                                                                                  We spent the rest of the afternoon and night just chatting and catching up. We ate watermelon freshly cut. My dad stayed up late with me just talking about randomness. I slept in my brothers old room. That was the best sleep I had gotten in months. I was home....

I now know what home is...

It took me leaving it and not thinking I had it for a while to realize...

It's knowing everything bad disappears when you walk in the door. It's smiling for no reason. It's hugs and kisses... lessons and advice. It's muggy air and the smell of sweet cut grass..clothes hanging on the line. It's holidays and meals. It's sharing tears of happiness and sadness.. Its cooking meals together. It's caring, being cared for and conversations. Home is a family that loves you and supports you unconditionally, knowing you can do wrong, but not be judged. It's teaching. It's drinking sweet tea on the porch and telling stories until the cicadas come out to sing you there afternoon songs.  And no matter where you are....It's there.

Its everything that I have... 

The Start A Simple Touch

One night to be confused
One night to speed up truth
We had a promise made
Four hands and then away

Both under influence
We had divine scent
To know what to say
Mind is a razor blade

To call for hands of above
To lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
For me, no

One night of magic rush
The start a simple touch
One night to push and scream
And then relief

Ten days of perfect tunes
The colors red and blue
We had a promise made
We were in love

To call for hands of above
To lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
For me, no

To call for hands of above
To lean on
Wouldn't be good enough

And you, you knew the hands of the devil
And you, kept us awake with wolf teeth
Sharing different heartbeats
In one night

To call for hands of above
To lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
For me, no

To call for hands of above
To lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
For me, no

Here's What Our Parents Never Taught Us...

A beautiful person wrote these words...She inspires me. 

"Here’s what our parents never taught us:

You will stay up on your rooftop until sunlight peels away the husk of the moon, chainsmoking cigarettes and reading Baudelaire, and you will learn that you only ever want to fall in love with someone who will stay up to watch the sun rise with you. 

You will fall in love with train rides, and sooner or later you will realize that nowhere seems like home anymore.
A woman will kiss you and you’ll think her lips are two petals rubbing against your mouth.

You will not tell anyone that you liked it. It’s okay.
It is beautiful to love humans in a world where love is a metaphor for lust.

You can leave if you want, with only your skin as a carry-on.
All you need is a twenty in your pocket and a bus ticket. All you need is someone on the other end of the map, thinking about the supple curves of your body, to guide you to a home that stretches out for milesand miles on end.

You will lie to everyone you love. They will love you anyways.
One day you’ll wake up and realize that you are too big for your own skin.

Molt. Don’t be afraid.

Your body is a house where the shutters blow in and out against the windowpane.
You are a hurricane-prone area. The glass will break through often.
But it’s okay. I promise.
Remember, a stranger once told you that the breeze here is something worth writing poems about."

-Robin