Missing Home

Missing Home

Margaret Wood, Journalist

My childhood is a sparkler on the 4th of July
My present is scraping the plates and picking up popsicle sticks

I remember the sprinklers in my backyard yard
They created a rainbow I wish I could hold beside my heart
When I inhaled it smelled like a soft summer breeze laced with sea salt
If I really think about it I can feel the water misting my face
Cold droplets rolling down my neck and grass sticking to the soles of my feet
The Earth between my toes that roots me home

Trees in October might be the most magnificent sight
They shake off their dead leaves and I try to catch them as they fall
In autumn life is coated in a honey-golden glow dripping with longing and clinging to life
Night and day blend together in an orange sunset but it’s brisker than a few months ago
The sun isn’t hanging over my head anymore
My shadow looms above me
The leaves seem to fall quicker further into the season

The January chill crawls under my skin and slows my mind
I want to freeze time but the world rushes me down a hastier path
I try to shake off the most recent snowfall but the weight is worse than I thought
Winters get lonelier and I didn’t notice the years slip through my frost-bitten fingertips