Home

The pavement here is broken, but the jagged lines in the concrete are familiar to me and I am well acquainted with the dirt in the cracks beneath my feet. The walls here are tainted and grey, the light no longer bounces off them and the shadows of anecdotal hand gestures no longer dance across the marble bench top. Gone too is the laughter that echoed through the hallway to my room, the clanging of wind chimes resonates in it’s place. I want to say that I’ve outgrown my home, but the truth is this is only a house now; these are only bricks, which surround me.

The windows here are smudged, but I’ve drawn the curtains back a thousand times and stared at the tiny lights, which flicker in the distance. The darkness is sometimes daunting, but I tell myself the glimmering specks would not be as pretty in the sunshine. I am reminded of the flicker in my heart.

Their faces stare at me, perplexed, as I fumble to find the right words to make them understand. But I wonder if they will ever see colour beyond these tainted, grey walls, or know the hope, which I have witnessed from this window.

The door is only a few feet from where I count the shiny dots in the distance, each one akin to a dream in my heart. This time all I need are my two shoes to make it to that door. The confusion in their eyes mirrors my own, as I wonder how we ended up here. I want to say that I’ve outgrown my home, but I think the truth is I’m just trying to find it.