I never appreciated the way home feels
until I stood on the other edge of myself
and I stayed there for maybe a week
to absorb that feeling
and depart thinking I knew
what I always wanted
no longer blinded by what felt
monotone, regular, scheduled
I went home for a month and left
disheartened, longing, yearning
for an unfamiliar place that would reveal
who I am and could be
so I went to the other coast and stood atop a roof
irises like black holes to the light
staring at the city from the valley
enjoying that moment of smallness
Then I moved far away from there
just so that I’d miss it
neat folding, one suitcase
and infinity in my mind
I think sometimes the walls
of my previous residences miss me
and sometimes I think about them, too
and how I never got around to hanging up
the pictures I took of my family
or the poem my uncle wrote for me
I wasn’t going to be there for long anyway
couches, beds, floors,
tents, hammocks, cots
but I never sleep in cars or airplanes
because I never trust the driver
unless it’s myself
My mother grew up in one house
and my father maybe two
I’ve lived in nine places now
four without them
You could say it’s a love for travel
but really it’s an obsession for leaving
Their newest home sits on a hill
and I went to help unpack
(but sort of wish I hadn’t)
To see the things they kept
knick-knacks, crafts, drawings
of mine that I tossed aside
and chose to forget in favor
of my one suitcase
I just met these new walls
and I do not yet trust them
to hold the things I’ve locked away
that prove I was even here at all
I left them with a hug
and drove all over
through white-capped mountains
city lights, bells chiming
brutal cold and golden warmth
but everything I saw made me think
of the content of those boxes
back in my family’s new home
that I quickly resealed
and had tried to forget again
I stood in a busy street and thought of them.