Home
Home Where you find your rest, your family, and your true heart. Where your story started. Saturday morning, rising sun washing the yellow walls in golden light of childhood. Cereal, toast, and juice. Cartoons, PJs, and bare feet bursting into memories of careless joys of lawns, bikes, and trees. Leaving started adventures. Signed contracts, moving trucks and buckets of paint. Excitement and troubles. tears and crying, “I want to go home.” Driving that old mountain road windows down, air smelling like home. Hotel room becomes home for a night. Sight of a lonely oak tree on a grassy hill, says, “welcome back.” Home on my bookshelf, Toni Morrison, Marilynne Robinson, Tolkien’s Frodo, and Le Guin reminding me that we’re Always Coming Home. Standing at the grave side, looking to the east hills sun setting behind me, telling my brother, “mother has gone home.”
Andrew's View of the Week 
This is a strong, moving piece, Andrew. It really captures an emotional trajectory.
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Thank you. Home is a powerful place.
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Great writing as usual. Reminded me of a thought I wrote a while ago with the title What is a Home? I love reading your stories. It has been a long time for me away from the site and away from writing. I am glad I’m back. Thank you for the support and thank you for the great stories you share with the rest of us.
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Thank you – keep writing.
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Lovely, and poignant. Home can mean so many things…
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Home is so many things.
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Losing your parents is never easy and nobody can fill that void.
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So sorry to hear this Andrew. My prayers for you all 🙏🙏
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Beautiful words, Andrew. It’s difficult to lose a parent. Mine are both gone now which is surreal. Sending comforting hugs…
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Thank you. My father passed 20 years ago and mother 14. When I think of home, my thoughts always bend towards mother. First the home she created for me and now the eternal home where she is now.
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“Where your story started”–that couldn’t be truer. I’m so sorry for the sadness. You have the right attitude.
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It is true. We start at home and journey through life with all its ups and downs. Joy and sadness both define what life is.
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Thank you for sharing.
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and thank you for reading. I always enjoy reading your posts, even though I don’t comment much.
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A beautiful poem, and I’m so sorry for your loss. ❤️
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Thank you.
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Lovely and heartfelt tribute to that place like no other – home. May you be blessed with comfort and peace.
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This poem started as a topic suggestion from my writer’s group at church. We were asked to write about “home.” How can you speak of home without speaking of mother? She’s been in her eternal home for 14 years now.
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I completely agree – when I think of home, I always picture my mother.
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They just go together.
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My heart goes out to you.
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Whenever I think of home, I think of mother. She’s been at rest for 14 years now.
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Thoughtful and beautiful tribute, Andrew. My deepest sympathy.
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This poem started as a meditation on what is home. How could you leave mother out of that?
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Hugs so beautiful.
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Thank you.
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Beautifully written and your mother is at peace in her new home
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She’s been in her eternal home for 14 years now.
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It is always hard to lose a parent, no matter how old you are. This is a most beautiful poem, Andrew.
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I agree with Robbie. This is a beautiful poem and losing parents at any age is too too hard
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Yes, any loss, but with a parent it’s different.
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Definitely different with parents
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I was writing about home and how could you leave mother out of that.
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Been there, losing q husband, and a year later my father passed away. Seven years after that, my mother died. It is never easy to become the oldest generation.
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It is odd being a ‘senior’.
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Indeed.
We look at our kids and say, “I don’t feel old enough to have middle-aged children.”
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I remember my father saying, “I don’t what is worse – me turning 40 or my youngest son turning 40.”
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I am so sorry. May she be at peace.
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She is.
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