Floating

A stranger’s laughter fills my childhood home.

The school where I fell in love with learning has been buried under the ground.

My childhood church has been moved and there remains an empty lot.

The fields where I wandered and the soil where I first learned to plant are completely unfamiliar to my children.

They will likely never experience the delight of climbing into a pigpen and nestling down with weanlings under a heatlamp.

One day someone told me that there’d been an accident and those eyebrows and that tender smirk got wrenched from my life forever.

One day I watched her walk towards the gates of heaven and that laughter and that beautiful voice will never grace my ears again.

I feel broken – never to be whole again.

Like an orb in space. Disconnected.

Lost from home.

Floating.