home

sometimes I get tired of this place
it's all I've ever known
I've watched the summer melt into fall from this porch my whole life,
& its always the same
the air smells familiar every spring
and compared to the world, the days spent here aren't very exciting.

my dad & I, one night around ten o'clock, left to look at pickups. He's a truck driving kind of man, and no matter what kind of car he fancies & sells his truck for in a moment, it's always a fleeting moment. He can't help it.
so there we were, at the lit up empty car dealership, right across from the high school he went to so many years ago; the same halls my sister graduated from just months ago. there was a game going on, you could hear he cheers exploded from the football field. the stars were so bright. brighter than any city lights I've ever seen.
It was comforting, in an odd sort of way.
the trucks & the rumble of the game across the street.
In my little corner of the world, most everyone is wearing a familiar face. I know the cashiers at the grocery store & all the back roads like they're engraved on my heart...Not everyone has that.
& I know in years to come I won't be here anymore. Someday will be the first day in my life that I won't wake up living on the same street I always have.
That moment, It's bittersweet to think of.

But spring is here again, and the air smells so familiar. Sometimes I get tired of knowing every street & building I pass.
But never will I ever get tired of the familiarity. Of this quiet town & the way the air smells, every spring. Of home.