Home…

4 feet of air above his 6 foot frame
Wall space enough for his 2nd born’s canvas

Dark, cinnamon spice hardwood
2 bodies embracing on the downy shag rug

8 steps up to the king size bed
A view of the pond for his 5 am drooping eyes

1 pair of geese in spring, school bells in fall
4 pairs of smeary hands at Christmas

A garage with quiet tools and 1 used, crossover SUV
Private space for a 7 foot desk, 2 monitors, a laser printer, an accounting practice

1 silent ambulance ride
25 days of rating pain from 1-10

10 feet of empty air

1 house…no longer a home

Now: I am remembering the way they jostled the stretcher into the ambulance without regard for his pain, and his glance back at our home.  After his diagnosis, he told me that, in that moment, he had wondered if he would ever see the house again. He had 25 days after we received the news that his disease was terminal, and a visit home wasn’t in cancer’s plan.

It took a puppy, more art, a soft beige couch, new bedding, primal wailing, seasons of hiring men to do the work, and coming through the door hundreds of times before the 10 feet of empty air began to feel like home again.