Home isn’t always pretty.
It’s filled with screams and cries and hurt,
Not physical, but mental.
Not direct but I know it’s there.
Why go home they ask?
Why stay?
Always the questions but never knowing an answer.
Silent tears streaming down my face,
Hiding the humiliation.
Always coming back because it’s all I know,
Not wanting to come back because Jimmy’s not here.
He was the only person to protect me from all of this,
The only one that would sit quietly and listen when needed.
He fought for me,
And always ended up in more trouble than I was worth.
Home wasn’t always bad,
I try to convince myself.
Remember the hugs?
The Apologetic smiles?
It’s been better since Gramma passed,
It made her realize all of the mistakes.
Made her regret all of the hurt thrown around,
All of the pain she caused.
It’s still not perfect,
After a few drinks she’s all warm and happy,
I still know what’s coming in the morning.
A quick change of mind of all the questions I asked,
Never believing,
Always regretting my choice to come home.
“Please don’t leave,” she begs.
“I’ll see you for the holidays?” she wonders.
In my head I say “no, not again.”
Knowing I’ll be back,
Out loud I smile and go “of course, this is home.”
“I love you” is said as she smiles and waves goodbye.
“I love you too” I choke out as I think to myself,
“Will things ever change?”
As I pull away I let out a sigh of relief.
After four hours of driving and feeling myself again, I’m home.
Home for me isn’t where I grew up,
Not where I’m from,
But where I ended up,
Where I am now.
I love the feeling I get as I step onto campus and see the possibilities.
I can feel my mood, posture, mannerism change when I see the high peaks.
“Welcome home” I say to myself as I look around.
Home wasn’t always pretty,
However it is now that it’s here.