Home

Sometimes I have dreams, and in them I wake up and you are here. Some days I come home and I imagine that you arrive and park right where you are. Those days I think that you are coming home, back home. I think that you are back home, but then I realize you are every day. Thus it’s time to move. There’s nothing about this that is home for you, it is for me, but no longer us. There’s time for everything and home will find itself.