The Feeling Of Home

The Feeling of Home

by Suzanne C. Suber

 

 

It’s been such a long time.  Yet, sitting here on the old porch once more seems as if it were yesterday.  So many memories… The old porch swing still creaks and the paint on the fence is peeling, but the sky is ever so blue with cloud formations that are still able to stir my imagination.  How many hours had I spent lying on the soft green grass, escaping to those far away imaginary places where I could find inner peace and rest.

 

 The air is always filled with a welcome fragrance in my home.  Whether it be the fresh pine scent in the winter, the sweet scented flowers of spring, the heady fragrance of honeysuckle and fresh cut grass in the summer or the dying leaves and wood smoke in the fall.  I love waking up to birds singing their melodious tunes in the morning to falling asleep to the chirping of crickets rubbing their hind legs together and frogs croaking. 

 

No matter how long I stay away, I always feel welcomed back.  I have lived in so many places and endured so many hardships, that home, for me is not any particular place.  To me, it is deep in my heart, and when I am troubled, it is a place for me to rest.  For in this home, that I have made for myself, is not made of wood or stone or mortar. 

 

I only invite others in certain rooms.  The rest of my abode is my shelter, for there no one can cause me harm.  For there, I feel safe within the womb of my own being.

 

 

©3/04/96

270 words