Number 10: A Poem


I am walking home.


Strange that this place

This huge city with its

Screaming sirens

And constant thrum of activity

Has come to be that place called “home.”


I watch as my feet cover the distance

Between here – where I am

And there – where I will be,

Step by step over pavement and crosswalks

around the sometimes gross and sometimes just odd

pitfalls of a big city sidewalk.

For a moment

focused deeply on my moving feet

I can imagine that I am walking to every home


Any home

and that when I get there

There you will be too.


That I will step through the creaky door

Of my old Seattle home,

The frame widened with moisture

So that you have to push it extra to make it close

And you will be there, watching a movie.

“come sit with us,” you will say

and us will be

you, and me,

and our giant teddy bear between us.


Or maybe I will round the corner

To my Colorado home,

To the place where I never felt lost.

I will step onto the porch and

Run my hand along the inside of the mailbox

Just in case,

And then hold the screen with my foot,

And pull a little on the door to ease the turning of the lock.

And you will be there

Listening to the opening notes of NPR

“hi honey” you will say

“did you have a good day?”


In these moments between here and there

watching my sneakers step by step,

I am just a breath from a home that cannot be defined by borders or walls

by state lines or keys

by ownership or signed leases.

And in unison the little pieces of my heart

left behind in each home gone by

give just a little




and I feel lucky to have been able to love so many places

and people

so many favorite haunts

and preferred routes home.

So many finicky doors

and temperamental ovens.


As I enter the home

Of the here and how

It occurs to me

that I will someday imagine walking to this place

When here is there and

There is a new here.

Someday, I will feel the tug from the piece of my heart

that will live still in this screaming metropolis.


I will be walking

going home to a new home

Step after step

Home after Home

and always through the echoes and down the memory lanes

Homeward bound.

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