Home

There once was an old battered brown rattan settee that smelled like the dry summer sun in my childhood home. I remember throwing myself on it to watch TV. When I would land on the couch, it squeaked across the floor until I was safely cozied up in the floral cushions with my toes sticking through the bamboo weave like little prisoners trying to make a break. Once as I found my way across the two evenly gaped cushions, I always remember feeling like something was right despite the lacking physical support.
Today, I long to sit on that couch with my long arms draped across the tan tiles to feel a little sense of home. With life comes many new experiences that sometimes rush like that first leap onto the sofa. Most of the time, I find only a little squeak from my soul's momentary discomfort. But, on days like today, my heart longs to cuddle between those sun drenched cushions as I await my father to come wake me from my long needed slumber in the dark.
How I long to find something familiar in my life that is willing to let me just let go of facades. Dreaming of going back to a time when my worst offenses were name calling and skipped chores brings a deep growled longing within me to find what I now cannot have. I want to silence my heart's lost beat with a dose of my father's instant wisdom as he managed to complete a crossword and help me with my algebra homework at the same time. I long to sob and know that by dinner time, my aches will traipse into laughter as I sit down with my family to eat and discuss our day aside our old sofa. Home.