I’m used to this, I’m use to lying on the frail thin blanket that felt like concrete, I’m use to waiting and hoping for one kind soul to just offer 30¢ for an apple. I miss it, I miss being home. Usually the only warmth I feel is the warm summer sun or the choking smoke of cigarettes. I like thinking about different things, especially things I don’t have anymore, one thing I think about most is home and family and like I said both things I do not have anymore. Some nights I imagine warmth in my mind, I imagine sitting by the wood fire feeling the warmth tingling my legs making me comfortable. I can imagine a mother touching my shoulder telling me “I love you” making me feel like I belong in a home. During the day I mostly daydream while I listen to distant chatter from above where I’m sitting. I daydream about coming back from grandma’s house, jumping out of the car and dashing toward the front door. Unlocking the door and feeling the crisp air as I step in making me feel like I’m just an average kid.
One day something happened, a man walked up to me and dropped a piece of paper on my lap then left in a hurry. I picked up the paper and read it, what was on the paper made me think, “What does home mean to me?” I thought for awhile but finally came up with an answer. What home meant to me is a place to feel happy, not sad, to feel appreciated, not hated, to be encouraged, not discouraged, a place to feel accepted, not feared. Home also meant having a family to make it feel right, to make you feel loved and cared for, to make you smile every time your mom or dad returned from work, hugging them as an appreciation toward what they’ve given you, what they made for you. Having friends to run by the river with while you big wooden cozy house watching you with a watchful eye, protecting you from anything that might try to harm you, comforting you when you feel hurt or sad. Your house and family forgiving you when you do an atrocious act. In your home you can plug in your headphones and dance like nobodys watching you, free to dance, to have fun, to play. But this “home” is all in my imagination but it still feels real.
That’s what home means to me.
“Home is where you feel loved, appreciated, and safe”- Tracey Taylor