I Found My Home In Her Eyes

As a young child,

when my mom would look at me

and see me with her loving blue eyes,

I knew I was home.

When I grabbed her hands to hold

I’d bring her wrist up to my nose…

her scent was an Estee fragrance;

a particular bouquet no longer made or sold.

Comfort came in one whiff…I knew I was home.

Her soft, quiet presence

modeled to me a love for listening

and to this day,

so many years later,

when I feel heard...

I know I am home.

My Mom passed just a few years back.

When I am especially missing her,

I make sure to look at this particular photo

that I took of my Mom.

It captured a moment

when all her vulnerability came forth,

a snapshot of time

when she clearly felt her beauty,

and her worth;

and today,

when I look at that photo

I remember my own,

and...

I know I am home.