I went home to Magnolia this weekend.
It's odd how I still call it home. There is so much there that I want to leave behind. So much that I have left behind, and don't want to revisit.
But when I was there, just for a few hours, I found out why it's still h-o-m-e.
I'm on a boat, in my grandparent's pond, floating. Just floating. On water, on air. Through the sky, somewhere else - Peace. Everything is good.
The water is murky and full of pollen, but my mind is crystal.
Daphne sees those things swimming in the water and wants to play with them, paws at them, accomplishes nothing. Catfish 1, dog 0.
The mockingbirds are happy my meema isn't home. Her shotgun is always behind the back door. She hates mocking.
The smells are the same. Sweet grapes from the vineyards, honeysuckle from the flower beds, cow shit from the fields. The smells never change.
Everything just is. It just is.
That's why I still call it home.