Home

It’s sad…when we have to live somewhere and call elsewhere our home. 

“Home is where the heart is.” 

The heart yearns and the whole being aches.

“I feel at home here.” 

That’s nice. Stay there.

“This is my home away from home.”

Wow! That exists for you?

“Make yourself at home.” 

umm…but…How?

Or umm…lets be honest, we both know that’s not gonna happen

if you are feeling particularly feisty that day

But what is home?

Home is where a hug can let the worst go

Where you can kiss and they will know

Home is where your tantrums are seen

And not blamed on the menses

Where your quirkiness is accepted,

Your feelings, acknowledged and

Love, expressed…fearlessly

Where you can be daft, dull and dorky

All at once, and it is OK

Where you don’t have to feign

And have the right to complain

Home is where you can unapologetically be you.

A toddler…forever

Spontaneous, playful and whimsical,

Honest, trusting and affectionate,

Spirited and brave,

Optimistic.

That one prized person might do the trick - a partner, a parent or a friend. 

Or an environment where you can simply be - a gay bar, for instance.

But, hopefully, home is not a fantasy

Hopefully, home exists

But your house…that need not be your home.

A stay-at-home mom might quietly be a stay-at-house mom 

You never know.

A houseboy can be a homeboy

Few and far between.

And a houseguest can be a homeguest

The irony.

Being so close, yet so far can make home depressing.

For you simply wish that you could be at home forever

You simply wish…you could be a toddler…forever.