Member Poem

What is home?

Many people say that home is where the heart is,

but home is all around me.

It’s the morning dew

dripping off the pine trees

and the cool crisp air

at an all too familiar summer camp

in northern Virginia,

with joyful memories of summers past flooding your brain.

When your campers decide that they’re no longer hungry

and you eat the twenty pancakes that you made for those kids,

or when you decide to play the piano

for morning worship

five minutes before worship starts.

It’s those crystals gently gliding through the sky

down to those same pine trees,

and melting at the warm touch of your skin.

It’s the coffee

that burns through your jeans

after waking up from a rough night

in an unfamiliar cabin

that you share between you and your coworkers.

It’s the joyful laughter

exchanged between family.

The stories of younger cousins

playing with string

pretending

it’s a mustache.

It’s the friends

that are so dear to you

they become your family,

without even trying,

and it all started with that one simple introduction,

from there you knew

“these people are going to be in my life forever.”

It’s the stories,

exchanged like gifts,

like ukulele you continuously dropped hints about

and the socks that you don’t really need,

but you keep them anyways,

next to the warm, crackling, fire

on Christmas eve.

It’s the warm and creamy mac ‘n cheese

passed around the table,

and dropped on the floor

for the dogs to lap up

from the dark hardwood.

It’s the puppies and kittens,

that we grow attached to

only to have those same puppies and kittens

pitter patter their paws towards death in the middle of the night,

or to have them put down

so that they stop

wheezing,

falling,

running into walls,

having seizure after seizure.

dying.

Whatever home is to you,

know that it’s special,

like an engagement ring

you’ve waited for week after week.

It’s different,

like every engraved tombstone

it feels welcoming,

like coming back to your family

after being away for months.

It’s heartwarming,

like the sincerity in a promise.

It contains more value to you

than anything else.

That’s when home is home.