Today I woke up far away from home.
It’s been like this for what, five years now.
My body has gotten used to the one hour difference in time and the hot weather,
And my mind has pretty much tagged along.
But sometimes I remember, I remember what it was like to come home to my people.
To come home to noise, to rock and country music, loud laughter and half the time yelling, someone trying to win an argument.
Home was noisy, that I can promise you, I’ll never get used to a quiet house.
Come on, is it the laughter or the music that you disapprove?
Home was full of life, not a perfect one, but still life.
And yet we all dreamed our perfections, dissatisfied with the one we had.
What’s my perfect life?
To come home to laughter and peace and quiet, a perfect balance of the two.
I want to come home to little feet to welcome me, those innocent little mini mes to stretch their hands and say Mama up! up!!
And yes I will hug their little bodies and thank God for love.
I want to come home to the smell of my cooking still in the air.
I want to come home to long nights, to my lover’s arms. . .
A place I know everything will be alright.
Oh! what a life that will be, can you imagine it?
I can, even though when I come home now,
It is not my dream yet, and the people I want to meet me at the door are not there.
We have our friends but without any fault of theirs, they are just a shadow of the real image we want.
We have a lot of social media but never satisfying.
We have the church, but the church cannot follow you home.
All we are left with are what I call the constants, they are faithful, unswerving in love and devotion.
They are what awaits us at home, always there.
Never changing how they feel about you, always welcoming, ever ready to be with you when you are alone.
I don’t know what your constants are but one of mine is
Tea and Cake.
After a long day filled with many possibilities, the possibility that it would rain so we can cool off but it doesn’t.
The plausibility that you’ll receive that warm text, that says she’s sorry, or that he wants you, but it never came.
People promise and keep it, they also fail and they chose this long day to do so.
After receiving that call that leaves you feeling emptier because you are losing a friend.
After being there for others as they have been for you and allowing them to verbalize their emotions, hugging them and with a whisper say everything will be alright.
I come home to my Tea and Cake, the two things that work hand in hand to make me remember that life is sweet and delicious.
It smells good too, it’s hot and cold, it’s soft and moist.
Home is Tea and Cake, loyal, loving, selfless, warm, a beauty with the aim to please, to bring peace and a clear mind.
Of course it wouldn’t be complete without music, How to Make Love to an English Man and conversation or silence with the most constant person in my little life. . .God.
He’s the best constant, and he invented Tea and Cake.
I wonder what constant things await you at home. . .
I hope it’s as lush and tasteful as mine.
_ Lorraine Stitch