Home is Not a Place

Laughter echoes through the hallway

From the kitchen to the bedrooms

Mingling with the aroma of a pie in the oven

That she made by hand

Perfect every time

From a legacy of practice and wisdom

Or the paneling reverberating in the stairwell

As he lifted his hand

Threatening

But not actually following through

If we misbehaved

Empty spaces where he used to be

After he was gone

Traces of the past

The family heirlooms adorning the stone mantel and antique tables

Or hanging above the piano or the sofa

Where she lay in her last days

Nothing is permanent

The hermit crab sheds its shell when it outgrows it

And crawls into another

Even the tallest tree’s roots don’t go deep

They spread out and only skim the surface

Anchoring it to the earth with tiny filaments

Storms tell us roots are temporary

Without you, I am nowhere

No matter where I go

Home is not a place