A Series On ‘Home’

The cleaners cleaned today. The house is empty, but I couldn’t go up to see it. I just didn’t want to see it empty.

I wanted to see it with my mom and my aunt and me, laughing like loons while stringing up greenery on the banister for Christmas.

I wanted to see it when I’m the last person up, looking at the Christmas tree in the livingroom corner, reveling in the lights and smell of the tree, before tiptoeing upstairs.

I wanted to see it with my dad sitting at the dinner table, tweaking my earring because he hates piercings.

I wanted to see it full of my brother’s friends, eating salsa and arguing politics.

I wanted to see it with the family in the TV room, shouting ‘Jeopardy’ answers.

But those people aren’t there.

So I’m going to be blogging a lot about ‘Home’ for a while. What it means to me, different ‘homes’ I’ve had.

It may get maudlin. The prose may get downright purple. Feel free to avoid, or bring a barf bag.

If you’re unbarfy or immune to purple prose, tell me, what makes a home for you?

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