Going to Seminar by the Sea in June, I learned that I am a writer with many facets. I learned that poetry does not have to follow a rhyme or a rhythm. One day, we did an exercise in which we were told to write about our home. In other words, we wrote about a time in which we felt completely at home in our bodies. For me, over the past year, my home has shifted dramatically. But, after Seminar by the Sea, I can begin to appreciate the home I have established for myself amid sorrow and tragedy. Hope you enjoy.
Home
Home two years ago was watching General Hospital after my mom came home from work.
Home was snacking on chips or leftovers before venturing into the kitchen to cook dinner.
Home was lighting a Yankee Candle.
Home was my mom’s dog falling asleep on clean warm towels.
Home today is much different.
Home is “stealing” my niece’s feet on the way to the park.
Home is trying to teach her that “more, please” does not automatically translate to Goldfish.
Home is having her rest her head on my shoulder after a long day.
Home is tearing up every time she says, “Aunt Kelsey.”
Home is going to a protest.
Home is getting lost in a story.
Home is my Aunt’s house.
Home is encouraging my friends with everything they do.
Home is gushing over my kitty, Troy.
Home is writing an article.
Home is spending four hours at dinner catching up with my best guy friend.
Home is the smell of ‘Beautiful Day.’
Home is a marching band competition.
Home is Vera Bradley.
Home is seeing my best friend graduate.
Home is celebrating a birthday.
Home is planning a wedding even though I’m not a bride.
Home is my high school.
Home is being a role model.
Home is an airplane heading to Tampa gripping my necklace.
Home is telling my close friends and family how much I love them.
Home is when they say they love me too.
A version of this piece was written for Seminar by the Sea, a gender studies program in Maine!