The Tug Home

As I drove out of the city
after visiting a friend
I felt my childhood home
tugging me to come see.
Hadn’t been there for years
but found myself turning
off the freeway and following
intuition and vague memories
until thought sparked:
“Turn here!”

And I turned left. I knew
I was on the right street  -even
though the numbers were wrong –
The tug was getting stronger.

And there! There it was!
The decor was all changed –
the trappings were different –
different colors and theme –
the yard seemed smaller –
but there was the patch of lawn
where I twirled in my alphabet
dress, and there was the window
that brought light to my room.
And there was the fence Dad built,
still standing.

This is the house my father built
with his own hands –
the place where I knew
who I was, I knew I was safe,
and I knew I belonged.
There were no doubts or worries
about the future here.
This is the place where I first
defined “home.”

A younger me still twirls in an alphabet dress on that patch of lawn.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell

home 2

“Where we love is home – home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts.”
– Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.

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2 thoughts on “The Tug Home

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