A Home or a House

Dear Mother, Oh Mother, how I yearn to come home. It’s so horrid in this house that is not yet my own. I can't even imagine having to stay here forever. I miss the very essence of home. Your amazing cooking, the laughs from everyone at the dinner table, and the smell of delicious cakes. When I moved here, I finally realized the difference between a house and a home. Home is the place where I can cry and be comforted with the familiar scents, like your homemade air freshener, the smell of fresh laundry. I miss the laughter that lit up the darkness, but here there is none. Oh, Mother in your home there is so much joy and hope. In my house I can’t find either. I can't even find the light in my heart to pray. In your home I can always confess my sins and feel as though I am lighter. At home I could wrestle my brother and win but that didn’t matter because our love for each other grew. In this house, there is no one here with which to play. In my house there is nothing to care for, but at home we cared for everyone. Your home is where I can be myself, here I feel it’s not yet safe to be me. At home I can grow up. Growing doesn’t just mean becoming taller, it means how our family has helped each other become who we are today. I have grown up into a young lady that loves to help others. Where I am now there is nothing like that, I feel as if I am not myself. I know it will take some time, but my house will grow into a home. Your tearful but loving daughter, Paxtyn