Summer Sames #2 HOME

There is nothing like going HOME.

Not the place I reside as a wife and mother.

But the actual place where I grew up.

The home I was born in is still the residence of my parents;

well only my mom now.

Each year we pack up our family

and trek across country to grandpa and grandma’s.

It is the place I call HOME.

There is nothing like being there.

We walk through the same gate that I walked through coming home from elementary school,

from dates,

leaving for my honeymoon,

and bringing home newborns. 

The house has creaks that I remember from being a child,


I can jump over in the exact spots

in the hallway

to not wake up others.

I hid in the ivy playing hours of hide and seek.

We buried our family dog under the window

near the fence.

My brothers

and now my children

jump off the roof

into the pool

when grandma and “mom” aren’t watching.

It is the place where no matter how old I am,

I can still be mothered by my own mom.

And mother’s still need to be mothered

every once in awhile.

This time the “summer same” at my home

felt a little strange.

My father was not there this year.

He has been there

every year.

We expected to hear his funny whistle as he walked through the back door

bringing home popsicles and milk.

We wanted to see him dressed in his coveralls

puttering in the yard,

planting geraniums for grandma

and picking us

some oranges.

But mom was home.

So it still felt…the same in a way.


There is really nothing like going HOME.

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