Each corner is a reminder that Home is an object like a balloon, a thing to hold onto, though we know with a slip that it could leave forever. Gazing up and past it, the sky waits. It can float very far away. That makes me sad.
So we hang Home in our houses. In a frame. At night as I ascend the stairs, I see her on the fence, free inside her square. Barefoot of course, she isn't going too far. Her shoes may be in the house we don't see. They are fine there. You don't need shoes to walk on the fence.
Christine-
ReplyDeleteGreat post this week! I like how you capitalized Home to give it a sense of absolute HOME- Where did you come up with this story? Its excellent. Its so weird how everyone seems to put the word "Home" up in their home.
The descriptions for the girls were perfect.
I love your balloon/home metaphor! There is so much truth and beauty in that description, and something innocent and compelling in your choice to step out and say, "That makes me sad." Yes, love of home is heartbreaking in that change is inevitable; home is not static, just as the balloon must also rise into the air. "So we hang Home in our houses. In a frame." is a lovely transition - a metaphor for the ways we try to anchor our spaces. I was confused by the "her", though. As a character, she is abstract, mysterious, and symbolic but right not the symbol needs development.
ReplyDeleteGreat work!