Home Is Where The Crazy Is

Home is

having a glass of wine with my husband

while all my chickadees are in their nests

sleeping upstairs.

Home is

chaotic, rushed mornings with all my favorite littles around the breakfast table

our golden retriever

circling around

lapping up our crumbly mess,

– and-

too much laundry to do,

toys scattered everywhere,

the sounds of my children

rough- housing,

arguing,

laughing, running, jumping,

Loving.

It’s crazy.

It’s Home.

I wonder – has home changed as you’ve gotten older?  What parts have remained the same?  I wonder what my children would say home is?  If you have children, what do you think they would say home is?  I may just ask mine!

A big thank you to Never Trust a Jellyfish for this inspiration and 1reason2write!

Let Me Look into Your Eyes

He said to write about our golden.

She’s resigned resting on her bed,

lazy and peaceful?

I call her name so she’ll look up and I can take a quick snap shot of her

to post.

She won’t have it.

A glance.

A sigh.

And then a glare? glance at

the obstruction I’m holding in front of my face.

She’s a dog,

but she’s over the screens

stealing the very eyes she’d like to see.

Then I continue writing.

Irony at its best.

My reason for stopping.

Good night.