I know.

Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. MOM! MOM!  MOM!  MOM! MOM! MOM! MOM! MOM! MOM! MOM! MOM! MOM! MOM!

MOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!

I love my children. They are awesome.

I love my job. There isn’t one better.

I love my husband. He could teach how-to-be-a-good-husband class.

I know I’ll “miss it someday.”

I know it “goes so fast.”

I know I’m so lucky because I have what so many others don’t.

I know lucky isn’t even really the word because I have SO MUCH.

 

BUT

 

Sometimes, I still need to plug my ears.

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That is all.

It’s so cliché

Its probably too cliché

but nostalgia made me do it

I thought of home

distorted and unfocused, my memories are not quite there anymore

but the feelings remain-settled down deep

 

what is it about Autumn-the changing of the leaves or maybe not

that pulls me back “home”

can you call it home when

there’s nothing there anymore?

just a giant chasm where something used to be

 

a childhood friend died today

almost her entirely family gone, now

I left, but they stayed

had it been over 15 years since I’d even heard her name?

 

she wrote to me a few months ago

I think I’d like to write a book she said

about the pain

all the pain

but I don’t know if I’d be any good at it

 

Write

I told her

Write it down

because before you know it, you’ll be gone

 

and now she is

gone

and I’m drawn back home, wondering how I am here and she is there

and if she wrote down any of her pain

 

it’s such a cliché to love Autumn so much

to think of home as the seasons change

as those leaves of my childhood

fall, along with the few memories I have left