A taste so familiar
Here I stand
at my window again.
Looking out I feel a change....
must be the weather.
The days aren't in
growing season right now,
so all the birds are gone.
Even me, I'm not growing~
but I do feel a change....
must be this homecoming.
We traveled back at night;
no bag, no flight.
The long drive did me good,
since I had a lot on my mind.
The bright headlights brought to blaze
what I was running from.
Each car shed a regret, one at a time;
some a muted hum,
while others I paid more mind
(purr, zoom, thunder, whisper, whine)
as the passing state went by.
The further we drove,
(looking out the window)
I felt a chance....
must be the open road.
A couple of service stops weren't familiar,
until I realized you both
avoiding them for me;
but we caught a few~
Cracker Barrel (1/2 mile off of I-95),
Cafe Old Town (exit 176),
the Plaza Diner in Morris Plains....
It was hard to swallow.
You kept watching me gaze out the
diner window....
I felt the loss.
What used to taste so familiar
was now a foreign flavor
(haven't been able to have
Hot Open Turkey since).
I think you knew;
you kept trying to find
who I once was,
so you could bring her
back with you.
But I wasn't the same anymore;
(just like the weather)
I had changed....
I think,
pulling in the driveway got me the most.
What I once called home
now felt so unfamiliar.
I couldn't speak; not one word.
I walked up the steps to my childhood.
Your embrace was painful
(it felt so empty to me).
As I walked in the house
I went to the kitchen;
I smelled a familiar scent~
then lost it.
I put my fingers
on the closest chair
(it was my Mother's).
My Father sat down;
he looked at me.
I felt the urge to challenge his love
(the anger within this thought
frightened me).
I turned down the hallway
as I would on any day;
I glanced at the pictures;
(my sis and I, together in matching dresses).
I touched the spot on the wall
that was smoother than the rest
(my father, being a painter by trade
never could get around to fixing
his own house).
I headed to the bathroom;
looked into the mirror....
I had failed.
I finally made it to my bedroom.
The bed was gone.
A futon was there, in exchange
(pretty blue cover).
Still my room....
I laid down.
I curled up in the fetal position
with the question,
"What is home?" repeating
(as if I was hearing someone
ask it to me, over again).
What is home?
What is home?
I couldn't answer the voice.
I could only sleep.
Morning came and went quickly.
I could only sleep.
I got up to peer out the window on
the third day.
Looking out I felt a change....
this must be home.