An Animal, and A Home

I live in a home, different from someone else’s. I live in a muskox, underneath the soft, warm, lush fur where all my memories are found. This is my home. Other insects who live here have more meanings for home. Home is a place where they feel welcome, or a place they can relate to. However we feel, each creature here has a home and loves it very much, no matter which way we describe it. Our home moves from time to time, changing areas. These areas are locations, the places we live in, but the muskox is our home, the place that lives in us. Sometimes it’s difficult to leave, but we know that we’re not losing what’s most important: our home, the place where we grow and change, the place where our memories collect. We will find another location eventually, so there’s no reason to worry. When we find a place we appreciate, we never truly feel connected to it. We will part from it sooner or later, and that feeling of comfort will come with us. Our home follows us everywhere, and that feeling never vanishes. We always go searching for new creatures to protect from the shivering, uninviting cold. We welcome them to our thick barrier of our loving home. In some rare and unfortunate cases, our home gets overcrowded, and someone has to leave. I always wonder where they go, hoping that they’ll find a home. I’m always curious if there’s another home out there, exactly like ours, like a home doppelganger. Somewhere out there in the soft, wispy clouds, or in the breezy, open sky, someone is fortunate enough to be in a home where they feel loved, cared for, and appreciated.