Lost Here and Home Tomorrow

When I come home, the sweet smells touch the gentleness of my nose. I see the love…floating, floating…in the dense air that stays with me— the hugs that no longer sting, the kisses that no longer burn. Home feels different, but the furniture remains intact, in all its decorations and knacks. I pray, without notice, to stay in that one long minute— to gently touch a mother’s hand, to speak words that are as brave as any love’s victory. I sing and hum to come closer and closer to what awaits me in my last days, where I can gently kiss goodbye to all those who shared life with me. “Goodbye,” says my heart. “Hello,” says my soul.