Home is:
When a stranger with sisterlocks says to you as you're walking by, "I gotta see this baby, I see little girl feet sticking out from under [the blanket]," and you stop and let her see, because it ain't weird, because it's us.
I can not think of anything to say that would make anyone feel anything because I am trying not to feel because to feel is to welcome the despair that awaits imagining that we have collectively decide
You are afraid to leave home again because it's so complicated now--your kids were born here, you tell yourself, this is their home. But the realest complication is that though the home you know exist
I was laying on the I-swear-it's-smaller-than-twin-size bed in the outpatient facility, waiting for my surgery to get started when a second anesthesiologist stepped inside the curtain and began thumbi