Home

Soft as silk,
long and thick as Mom’s hair,
bright as emeralds
sparkling in the sun,
(like the lake in summer)
long grass in the front yard… 
where a younger me would flop down 
and stare at the sky or clouds.

Across the drive, another marvel—
​the lone Cherry Tree stood proudly.
Grand majesty attested to by
her resplendent pink crown,
eliciting worship from passers-by,
her servants busily buzzing around her crown.
​I gave reverence from a safe distance.

Beside me stood my big, white fortress:
impenetrable, comfortable, familiar, safe—
​where I was queen of all.
Mom – my foundation and right-hand servant.
Sister – my confidant and instructor in life.
My room – a quiet place to recharge.
Dad – my inspiration,
​even after he left us…
to live in a different fortress.

Behind our fortress,
​beckoning,
holding its breath,
awaiting my presence,
​lived my best friend,
the woods.

Trees to be climbed and conquered.
Vines to be swung upon.
Forts to be built and defended.
Ravines to be run down and up.
Dams in the creek to be built.
Logs over it to be traversed.
New plants to be discovered,
​poison ivy to be avoided.

Other friends lived in fortresses down the street
or, through the woods.
Or, at the end of the moss “emerald carpet”
​they came and went.

My best friend never tired of me
but seemed to follow me through the years
to each new home. 
Sometimes,
I just had to look a little harder to find him.

He still speaks to me and counsels me,
consoles me,
makes me smile—  
even when he is resting
in dead of winter.

I would tell you what he says throughout each year,
why he reminds me of home,
how he grounds me
​or helps me touch heaven,
but I can’t.
He doesn’t speak to me with words. And,
best friends don’t share their secrets anyway.  

© gratefulsue 2020, 2025