4u2rethink

The path to the front door is lined with plantings of apprehensions, excitements and forget-me-nots
Forgotten or not?
Stranger or friend?
Ignored or embraced?
Resented or forgiven?
 

What will the dog say when awakened to my presence?
Bark as aroused by an intruder or bound tail in hand with eyes of delight?
And what of the door, does she know my name,
swing easy on her hinges or ignore my coming with a rusty yawn?
 

Is this home?
The place that remembers my birth and has carried me in her arms
Where each year is carved into the back of the wardrobe door
The place from which I was freed to explore the world, 
knowing that I could forget home but home would never forget me
A place where a return is always possible, no matter what!
 

A place called home, calls home
Of food and fights
Of side splitting laughter and heart breaking tragedy
Of chores that no one wants to do
A table whose legs have run for no one but supports a feast and declares my rightful place
 

Welcome home