I grew up on sighs. My dad’s long and sorrow-filled. Those sighs are an indication of things he wishes were different. How he wishes his parents were still alive or that his siblings lived closer. That his daughters weren’t growing older and getting closer to leaving the house. Sighs because the weekend passed too quickly and it seemed like it just started. My dad’s sighs are so familiar to me and they seem to signify that I’m home.

My mom’s sighs vary. Sometimes they would be short and exasperated. Tired of dealing with her daughters day in and day out, because we can be far too much like her for our own good. Sometimes she just sighs reading a book or watching TV, because she thinks of something that causes her to be discontent with life. My mom’s sighs make me realize how much like her I am.

My dog’s sighs are huge for a twenty-five-pound dog. Her whole body moves to produce that sound. She sighs as I move her away from the center of my bed and more towards the wall. She joyfully sighs as I draw her close to me when she’s sick. She sighs to let me know that she’s underneath my chair or my bed. Her sighs seem to communicate that she’s mine, no matter what, and that she won’t let me forget that.

My former teacher reserves her sighs for when her students aren’t around. When they come, they vary like my mom’s. She has agitated ones where she quickly lets out a puff of air and rubs her eyes at the thought of her students. She has long ones after a long week when she wishes to go home but she still has work to do. Her sighs reflect all of the hard works she puts into her students.

My other former teacher has long, soulful sighs. They mean something as their noise bounces throughout her room at any given moment. They would happen as we took tests or were silently completing an activity. You could sigh in her classroom and soon she would sigh back. Her sighs seemed to say “you are not alone.”

My friends and I would communicate all throughout high school by sighs. We could be on opposite sides of the classrooms, but still know exactly how the others felt. Sighs would ripple throughout the room when we were all together. Those deep exhales would demonstrate our frustration, our relief or even our tiredness. They signified the fact that we were all in this together, whatever this was.

At college I haven’t found a sigher to communicate with yet. I haven’t found that similar exhale that tells me I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. I’m hoping I find one soon, but for now my sighs are enough for me.

My sighs are the reflections of all the sighs I have heard throughout my life. They are short and frustrated. They are long and sorrowful. They vibrate through my body and they cause my lungs to feel like they are finally completely working. They remind me of home and of all the people I love and the fact that no matter where I am in this great big world, I am indeed surrounded by love. My sighs are little pieces of home that I carry in my lungs.