Heart is Where the Home Is

To be so weary And daily duty bleary
And then discover
In that constant loving place
Another's delight
At the wonder of my embarrassingly Simple Me-ness
This is home.
You can't go home again 'tis true
For life's cruel seasons
Batter the proudest fortresses
And snow will visit every roof
Yet wisely I carry home
Deeper within
Where cold cannot penetrate,
Moth beat in futility,
And rust is mocked for the effort.
My home is hidden in the eyes of my mother
Smiling back at me within my own reflection
Echoing the laughter of my father
Playing Fee Fi Fo Fum before bedtime.

(This one was written during one of my "aha" moments visiting my parent's home (Leon and Faye Criner - mom pictured at top; dad with a few of many grandkids pictured above) in Santa Clarita in 2002. I just felt so rich to have parents that model for me my own constant belovedness - no matter how much weight I gain or how old I get. It's kind of their job. :-))