Home is Where The Heart Is

My family fills my senses.

No matter what I’m doing, something reminds me of them.

The smell of a construction site reminds me of my father.  I remember hours of being down in the cellar or out in the backyard, watching him work, fix, create.  He could do anything with those hands.

The sight of Tupperware reminds me of my mother.  I remember going with her to strangers houses to demonstrate these household tools, being amazed at the ease with which she interacted with these people.  The way she made an ordinary container sound necessary.  She could talk to anyone.

The sound of certain songs reminds me of my brother. Of days dancing around my bedroom.  Of long car rides.  Of sleepovers in my room, games we made up, movies we watched.  He could make anything fun.

Sometimes it’s hard, being away from them. Sometimes they ask me why I moved away.

But really, it doesn’t matter if I’m across state lines or across the pond, my family is always with me.

They always have been and they always will be.

~ by Valerie Anne on 05/14/2011.

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