The Home I Once Knew

Remembering the place I loved

Home; photo taken by the author

Memories of the home I once knew are few and far between. They float in and out of my consciousness, like a storm cloud ready to rain when it’s least invited.

Truthfully, they feel more painful every time they bubble up.

They aren’t painful by choice or even by content. They’re memories of pure joy. Times in my life before I…