Home:

I forgot.

I forgot what it felt like to hear you are welcome in this space. Come on in.

I forgot the colour of a landscape without pain,

I forgot the peace of mind to be understood and the joy in my mother's authentic laugh.

I forgot how it felt to remove the cloak of being a burden, the weight of lowering myself to reduce inconvenience.

Oh damn, I forgot.

How it felt to have my own space, a space that I could fearlessly call my own.

A little piece of my mind explored on the walls and the atmosphere filled with such tenderness and vulnerability.

I forgot it when I was left trying to find myself, trying to understand who I was in a foreign space with a language I couldn't understand, two toned and high pitched.

I forgot, ok.

I forgot this space, my home.

I had stepped out into the world, that bubble, and placed a coat of responsibility on my tender shoulders to protect myself from that uncertainty.

So when I arrived at the door, I was lost, I didn't recognise these tiled floors, abstract paintings, and the sweet smell of my love imbuing each room.

I didn't understand the strange embrace of comfort, why was I so warm?

My home, a zephyr of courage,

There are no adjustments of myself, no self explanation, or sickening fears of being out of place.

These walls have a new coat of powdered blue and sapphire, and everything feels free.

Unconditional love.

When I whimper from the trauma of a world so unforgiving, my home holds me,

she calls out saying;

you belong here too

my love,

you are worthy of everything good, noble, and kind.

She is filled with smiles, giggles, and hugs,

Great intentions line the lounge walls and kind hearts raise my confidence.

She holds no tension between the creaks in the floors and her honesty keeps me safe.

When the tears come, tumbling onto my white linen sheets, she lets the light in from the sun, a gentle kiss on my forehead reminding me that I am not alone.

Her clean walls respect my boundaries and her high ceilings expand my trust.

When I rise, light beams, a soft tender gleam of burnt orange and rosy pink caresses the front room, leaving a trail for me to follow.

In the autumn the scent of warm banana chocolate bread and camomile tea fills the kitchen,

between the rainbow covered walls of books and the melodies of Camille Saint-Saën,

My home is wonder-full.

Blazing in grace and patience.

Her garden turns golden before sunset, each evergreen catching a light.

Her sunflowers like bumblebees murmur within the gentle evening breeze.

And as the delicate wings of dragonflies buzz through each row of lavender she reminds me to stay still,

remain present and absorb the kindness her space extends.

I forgot her but she never forgot me.

My imprint on the carpet remains from when I left.

The odd dent in the left pillow on the sofa.

The imperfect illustrations of my family are still framed on the walls

and like a tableau, the memories of joy are held in each of her corners.

My home,

my heart,

She holds me together even when I fall apart.