"Coming... Home."

If I made this a Book would anyone else ever understand what I said?

"Coming... Home."

I always wonder
what it must be like
to come
... home.

*************

I thought of putting memories here - but what ARE the memories one has of what it MEANS to come... home?  What IS home - and what isn't?  What are the realities and what are the wishes-it-were dreams we make up all our lives behind-our-eyes?

*************

I love Halloween... the kids and all the costumes.  Parents shuffling the herds - door-to-porch-to-steps-to-door.  Crowds, groups running back and forth - seemingly endless patterns of excitement.  I remember apartment buildings - tenements... dark scary halls - strange and sometimes foul odors, party music blaring and thumping...  I remember all the candies I never had otherwise.  Going door-to-door in areas I would never have visited... places I didn't even dream of living in.  Places I did live in - that were taken away... I remember standing at my different doors and having to give my "loot" away because we didn't have anything else to give the trick-or-treaters.

I learned to give the things I "liked" because it MEANS more to give something you WANT yourself.  Maybe the ones you give it to  (whatever the "it" was) will understand... and maybe they will like it so much they will keep it... can keep it.

Life is always perceptions - ya know?


*************


Isn't it amazing how "life"
just happens around
us... and suddenly we "see"
moments - differently? 

While we live them
moments aren't distractions
its we - that distract, from them.

We take away
- our childhood
- our wonder
- our heart

- our hopes, dreams, wish-they-weres...
our-very-selves
'til we stare at the sunsets
wondering where it all went
where IT was all lost - used up,
...forgotten.

I always wonder
what it must be like
to come
... home.

Chris

 

Reviews

[Emily B]

come home, Chris