Home Sweet Home (for Dan Antion’s Thursday Doors Writing Challenge)

May 21, 2023 by JoAnna 24 Comments

Instructions: Writing for the Third Annual Thursday Doors Writing Challenge has begun. If you want to join the fun, pick a door, write a story, poem, novel, screenplay, musical score – anything at all. Post your writing on your blog (or email it to me, if you don’t have a blog) and join the already growing list of writers in the table below.

I was drawn to the photo by by Susan Rushton. It inspired me to write a poem for my daughter who’s heart’s desire is to move from the city to the foothills. I hope she finds a place in better shape than this one, but as long as the house has “good bones,” she would be happy living in a cooler, earthier place.

She longed to live in a simpler time

Closer to the earth

instead of the small apartment

in the sweltering city growing too fast.

Between the apartment complex and

the affluent housing development,

she found remnants of greenery

and took pictures of wildflowers and birds,

mushrooms and medicinal plants,

hoping the therapeutic photography

would be enough until she could escape

the city where she’d been born

and lived her life of 30 years.

She started letting go of extra weight –

selling, donating, simplifying.

Then the time came

for the journey west.

She couldn’t believe it was really happening,

But it was really happening.

When she finally found her

home sweet home

made of stone and adorned

with greenery growing on the roof

and a clothesline in the yard,

It took her breath away.

Each step along the path,

lined with wildflowers

and medicinal plants,

to the aged wooden door,

felt like both dream and awakening.

She placed her hand on the stone

beside the door.

It felt cool and solid.

The strong door

creaked softly.

When she stepped inside,

her heart danced.

She knew she was home.

Next to the stone fireplace

a rocking chair beckoned.

The chair did not creak

but seemed to glide

offering a view

of the wildflower garden

through open linen curtains.

Leaning her head back,

she closed her eyes,

imagined flower boxes,

and thought she heard singing.

It was her own voice.

A year later,

she rocked her happy baby

while singing a lullaby.

Yellow and purple pansies

flourished in the flower boxes.