From after 3 flights, 3 cab drives, 2 train rides…
I stepped into a home….a home away from home.
I arrived with myself, baggage lost….
Like after a long evening walk.
Warm food welcomed me, to remind me….
Home is where the hearth is.
Notes- new numbers.
Lanes- new turns.
Trees- new flowers.
Memories- new maps.
To a co-performer in domestic rituals.
Food had to be cooked, clothes to be washed,
Floors to be mopped, life to be loved.
I learnt…that space has to be split, spliced and spruced
For time to be constructed, created and co-habited.
Stove- new knobs.
Onions- new knives.
Laundry- new coins.
Me- new togetherness.
The waterfront shaped a new hue,
Sights, sounds and souveniers
Either maple-dipped or maritime-minted.
Walks didn’t need voices, neither boat ride any speed.
The lighthouse didn’t need a shared view,
For each act of viewing was true.
Moo- new ice-cream.
Boat- new lighthouse.
Hammock- new sunshine.
Self- new connections.