I race home to embrace home every chance I get. There’s no place like it. Home is where my heart is, my heart at its most aching, and my heart at its most thumping. We are sandwiched between safe walls here, with a large tree looming, the tree that may ultimately come down and split this house in two.
We are sandwiched here between exultation and knock-down-drag-outs. Sometimes thick as thieves, sometimes split in two.
He pushed a note under his slammed door once, “I hate you, mom. For now.” “For now” is key. His “now” one second later had forgotten the note. We are safe between these walls for now. Warming the walls with the heat of the oven and the toaster and our hearts.