back again home again

four more days
another plane that lands us at the coast
.us.
this time together
.maybe the last time together at home.
.mothering the mother and mothering the son.

“Whenever I go on a trip, I think about all the homes I’ve had
& I remember how little has changed about what comforts me.”
~ storypeople

today i drove with the windows down and let some really good thoughts out into the breeze. i let them go willingly with an attitude towards myself. like, get the fuck away from me, who needs that story anyway, that whine, that sadness. later i kicked myself when i could not remember the vision that triggered the thought. i need it, if for no one else but me. it’s only now that i can see those thoughts as milestones on the path to mark that i stood there. here. right now. that i walked past it. that it was real. carvings on wood. graffiti on pavement. i’ll try to think of it this way from now on. for every now and then i promise myself to be more present. more aware and willing to take note. perhaps if i think of it like snapshots that act as reminders i can trick myself into behaving. but instead of film the experience fills in with words.

yes, i’ll think of it like that.
i hope to come back again {from home} to home {…home?}
with a suitcase full of stories even if for no one else but me
to remember {not to forget} that i was here.

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