Boxes and tape and paint speckled hair to hide the gray and cover the walls that weren’t our style and now close in the hearts of our family like a mother’s embrace.
Signing the papers on dotted lines and lines and the pen will go dry with my autograph joining me to this place. While we wait on words for the house that wont sell and there are barefoot prints through the yard and sticky fingers and blankets covered in jelly from a backyard pick nick.
But oh lord it’s hot here when you’ve lived in the rainforest and hot coffee just wont do. So the third pot is iced and the dogs prance at your feet because the celebration of our freedom is terrifying.
And tomorrow the family comes. It has been so long and we have ached for the community that has welcomed us back to the fold with open arms. There will be food and chaos and all the perfection of so many kids and all those old stories. And for a moment before it all begins and since the boxes are put away I will sit here and sip before the temperature climbs and breathe in a second or two of peace. And just exhale.
(Excuse the errors, I’m working from my phone)