First Home, Forever Home

A poem

First Home, Forever Home

This house was meant to be
our starter home, but sixteen years later,
it’s our staying-here home.
The kitchen cabinets are desperate
for new paint, and there aren’t enough places
for all my books.
1,400 square feet seems smaller
than it used to, but somehow the table is big enough
to hold our dinnertime laughter,
and the floor is wide enough
for dancing. The four of us
have mastered air guitar solos to “Free Bird,”
and the walls hold sonic memories
of my daughters singing every word to “Bohemian Rhapsody.”

We couldn’t cram a sectional into the living room,
but a smaller space means more chances to snuggle
up close and catch my daughter’s tears
on my sleeve while she rests
her head on my shoulder.
The cramped kitchen makes it easy
to bump into each other, but the addictive aroma
of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies
wafts through the rooms with delicious speed.
When the walls start closing in, we go
dancing in the moonlight for an audience of fireflies
in the backyard that expands
the meager size of our house.
On days when I wish we could move, I remember
that size is irrelevant when
our hearts are at home.

Our dreamy backyard. Can you spy the reader in the hammock?

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Now, tell me: what do you love about your home?