“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.