Waking up in a bed
In my childhood house that is still
Not mine, but is home.
Drinking coffee from a carafe
My father brewed it, extra strong
As my daughter still sleeps.
In the room one over
The one that was once mine through
Teenage dreams and formative years.
I creep downstairs quietly
Wood floors that creak with every step
A hug from my mom.
To start th…
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Checking Out to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.