Home is…

31 07 2008

      “Home is the wallpaper above the bed, the family dinner table, the church bells in the morning, the bruised shins of the playground, the small fears that come with dusk, the streets and squares and monuments and shops that constitute one’s first universe.”

–Henry Anatole Grunwald


And it’s the taste of well-water, making mudpies, the river on a good day, and the heady scent of Gardenias. It’s the burnt gold of pinestraw, moss blowing on oak trees, Azaleas, Sweet Olive, a runny nose from crawfish; it’s a game of Army Dodgeball, dewy grass on bare feet, vines across a ravine and pine sap everywhere.  It’s rainy afternoons with movies, hot tar on roads, squeaky porch swings, Sunday po-boys, ghost stories on the porch at dusk, laughter, kick-the-can, mosquito bites, a post-meal walk, family… these are the things that mean home to me.




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