I’m always on my way home. Weaving through the thicket, except it’s merely a tree line of willows. They look sad too. I light a candle and hold my breath every time the flame dares to go out. I never liked the wind. Thunder is far enough away. We’re alright. We’re going to be just fine. We’re going to rest well before the sun greets us. The old houses on this side of the county line look the same as I left them. It’s like the town froze over, except moss grew up the side of the old house I grew up in and they painted the door red. Flashes in time mean everything- just like the flame I keep lit for guidance. If it goes out I’m lost. The oldest of them all leave earth with a smile. Leaving is a blessing if you know where you’re going. I love the feeling of going home. Crossing county line and welcoming it with open arms. A faint amber light glowing in the window to let me know everyone is home and waiting. -AMT ©️