Home is seeing Kyle flip pancakes on Saturday mornings.
Home is feeling my blue and white pajama pants.
Home is the softness of my flannel shirt.
Home is watering my plants.
Home is J playing with my hair before he falls asleep.
Home is hearing voices say sorry Charlie after someone accidentally steps on his paw.
Home is the sound of our bedroom door opening in the middle of the night and J crawling in our bed.
Home is the taste of potato soup.
Home is the weight of our swim bag.
Home is the smell of my lemongrass sage candle.
Home is my boots and double camera harness on a 65 degree evening.
Home is my couch, lamp light, a worn leather bible, and cozy fall worship music.
Home is smelling Haddi baking blueberry muffins after school.
Home is the smell of the fireplace that is aching to be used.
Home is Kyle.
Home is a beanie on my head.
Home is a nicely vacuumed floor.
Home is warmth after walking in from the cold outdoors.
Home is spending 15 minutes trying to awaken Malachi every morning.
Home is the first exaggerated deep breath Malachi takes every morning when he wakes.
Home is working from the front porch when the sun peeks over the school’s roof.
Home is watching nine kids run into my house after school each day.
Home is watching Evs tumble.
Home is Ninja Kids.
Home is socks.
Home is hearing children arguing.
Home is a vintage sewing table that holds my plants.
Home is the coziness of my office nook in the corner that holds great-grandma’s Alpha’s sewing machine.
Home is nobody liking supper.
Home is constant laundry.
Home is constant dishes.
Home is hearing Alex Rainbird music.
Home is seeing backpacks on the front porch.
Home is stepping over backpacks on the entryway floor.
Home is eating baby cheese burritos.
Home is the Juki.
Home is safe.
Home is purple laffy-taffy.
Home is Elvis’ Christmas CD.
Home is our broken screen door slamming as kids run out.
Home is my prayer journal and then the next journal and then the next.
Home is Shoji White, Sage Green Light, the guitars, piano, and drums.
Home is our paint-stained and fork-stabbed table and peeling-chairs.
Home is J saying, “Daddy, you done for work?”
Home is blessing upon blessing.
Home is Kyle drinking coffee.
Home is the slip and slide.
Home is wooden spoons.
Home is our trampoline.
Home is a hot shower.
Home is lamplight.
Home is morning.
Home is bedtime.
Home is comfort.
Home is refuge.
Home is peace.
Home is chaos.
Home is built.
Home is Jesus.
One day home is heaven.
What a glorious day that will be?