Home is sitting on the front porch on sticky July evenings,
Listening to the crickets chirping and
Watching the fireflies blink on and off
Under the low tree branches
Like tiny flickering light bulbs.

Home is curling up in a corner of my room
With a blanket wrapped around me
Blasting music through my earbuds,
Attempting to drown out my brother’s
Deafening drumming that fills the house.

Home is eating a homemade meal
At the dinner table with my family
Laughing so hard from my brother’s antics that
My stomach muscles ache and
Tears are welled up in my eyes,
And my mom is smiling and telling me to stop before
I choke on my peas.

Home is Saturday morning sunlight
Pouring over the windowsills and
Stretching across the carpet,
Drenching the dozing dog in warmth.
Everything is quiet
And I know that I have no obligations,
No papers to write, no dishes to be washed,
No chores to tend to for
one
fleeting
moment.