Home is the spiraling September leaves falling out of the tree.

Home is a chilling wind whipping past my face as I step outside.

Home is the aroma of all of the animals my stepdad has.

Home is the laughs echoing from my little brother and sister playing with each other, growing up without worries of something harmful happening to them.

Home is wishing I could remember laughing as a child and being genuinely happy.

Home is always doing something not right in mom and stepdad’s eyes.

Home is being told that I’m selfish and only caring about myself.

Home is where you just want to vanish and never show up again. 

Home is the four-wall room you want to trap yourself in so nobody can bug you.

Home is being ready to be on my own.

***

Home is my mom waking up bright and early to get breakfast made for the family.

Home is the smell of the Maplewood smoked bacon creeping underneath my door

Home is being woken up abruptly by my stepdad barging into your room.

Home is getting up early every Sunday morning.

Home is rushing at the last minute, so we can get to church on time.

Home is getting split up into two separate vehicles because we all can’t fit in one car.

Home is sitting in the back seat staring outside the window trying to get lost in my own thoughts. 

Home is the little building, and  instantly plastering a smile on my face so that everybody couldn’t see the flaws underneath.

Home is not letting anybody see the pain.

***