not home as in home but

On Living: a poem about home

I tried to write about something else this week, something other than home. I tried to write about change—how its transformative power lies in the momentum it gathers. I braided my thoughts about change with the narrative of my father when he set out to change his life by leaving the Mojave. The first step in a series of movements. The goal is to keep going. To see it through. But I hit a roadblock. Maybe it’s because I’m battling a head cold and my mind is filled with clouds or maybe it’s because the piece is still trying to tell me what it means to change a life. I’m here to listen, to see if I can find myself between the lines. 

So, I set it aside and followed the path back to the ever-familiar territory of home. Turns out, I can’t seem to write about anything else. Maybe because I’m grateful to be building a home for my son that feels like the home I always wished I had. Or maybe it’s because the very feeling of home is making me question what it is. What does it mean to me? To him? 

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I read “not quiet as in quiet but” by Victoria Adukwei Bulley and the quiet became home and this poem washed over my clouded mind like a sudden revelation, a devotion in its own right.

*Paid subscribers can find the audio of this poem here.

not home as in home but 

(after Victoria Adukwei Bulley)

as in loss
as in trying to breathe
as in sirens
as in locking the door
as in waiting
as in eyes wide open
as in quiet / too quiet
as in cold side of the bed
as in something bad is about to happen
as in trying not to cry
as in the phone ringing / and not ringing
as in things unsaid
as in not knowing how to let go
as in sour milk 
as in lying
as in leaving
as in blue / the blue of longing; of distance
as in learning to hope 
as in trees out the window
as in this is what you called yearning
as in delight
as in dinner
as in opening your hands
as in leaving your shoes by the door
as in hearing the words I love you / and knowing they’re true
as in birdsong
as in slow
as in safe
as in long exhale
as in breaking the cycle
as in tangerines on the table
as in remembering how to laugh
as in this is what it means to feel

us shot on 120 film

I hope this leads you to think about what home means to you, and the journey it has taken in your life—from what was presented to you to what you’ve had the power to create. To the feeling it leaves you with because that’s really what home is, isn’t it? A feeling.

If you had to distill home into three words, what would they be? Share your response in the comments below, and if you have more than three, keep going. I want to read it all.

not home as in home but 

as in _______

as in _______

as in _______

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If you liked this piece, you may also like this one about home written as a letter to my son…