but home is everywhere at once
dirt swept into spirals and into the cabinets
letters, cliches stamped upon little magnets
ringlets of memories crusted like pictures
wound up and torn at the edges they whisper
remember me
I try to collect it all, push them in spaces
the letters, the objects, your cute smiling faces
but home's not a word that reflects all those places
I found myself in
I hope time erases
nostalgia within
nostalgia
I want to go home but sadness is home, not enough time to be happy and stay that way until I return. Then angry mom and angry dad are angry before I've even done anything, before I even get there. Grandmother shows much remorse and expects me to pump liquid joy into everything. I wanted to be there to be safe, free, and somewhat celebrated. My family is expected not to fulfill this because celebration is a dark secret. If I stay here, in rainy day Santa Barbara, I'll choke on the raindrops but at least escape pretending to be what my family needs at the time, twisting my faces robotically in tune with the foreground. I can't do that, as much as I'd like to, I cannot. I want to be happy that the year 2010 is over and that I've made it so far in the past year. I want to give away presents that I've bought for people. I want to, but I'll feel so limited. Confined by the death ever present in a nearby hospital bed. If I find myself unable to breathe, I'll just go to Together As One with the room mates, not be with family New Year's for the first time, and run the risk of not wanting to be with family for the next time.
