March 25, 2021
“My Childhood Home”
I lay on the bed
In the home of my youth
The sounds are the same as they’ve always been
My mother’s voice through the vents
My father’s work in the yard
I know how the light hits every door knob
Every bedspread
At every time of day
In every season
Of every year
I know which windows don’t have a shade
And which curtains my mother has replaced
I left in search of my own life
I bought my own bedspreads
My own curtains
And returned with arms full of children
And a heart full of gratitude
For when I lay on this bed now
I hear my children’s laughter through the vents
I hear the hum of their toys
I lay in the bed of my youth
With the exhaustion of a mother
Knowing that this is the one place
In the entire world
That I get to be
A child.