You Belong

Worn, wooden houses stand apart in space only the States could afford,

on their open porches fly flags waving majestically as if they were privy to your pending arrival.

Floorboards creek where forgotten footsteps rise to greet the expectant crowd,

the door blows open, and for a moment time stops-

rewinds, and adjusts while family members reacquaint.

You sink into the sofa kept warm in your absence and it becomes your throne for the night,

like a safety belt clicking into place, everything fits; there is a context to your madness.

Before long your humor crescendos feeding off the encouraging giggles of others,

jokes roll off your tongue as if comedy were your native language; you tease in a way only family can.

Next, dinner is served; no need for official welcomes – the food gleams with love,

home cooked meat is devoured and the bones are licked, sucked then polished clean in salutation.

Snippets of news are exchanged over the table then quickly forgotten,

instead stories are recounted; scenes brought to life as clear as your sister’s perfect pitch in song.

I watch you unwind in a home bubbling with memories, noise and laughter,

like sunshine reflecting off water, your family beams with pride to see who you have become.

They are as implicit in your success as you are in theirs,

And whether your stay is a handful of days or weeks that overspill into months, in this home you will always belong.