We as Humans

Home.

Home is not cold houses
with screaming people
and glaring judgment.
Home is not feeling out of place
where you should feel most quaint.
Home is sleepy car rides at night.
It's laughing so hard it hurts
at stories you had to be there for.
It's dancing with face splitting grins
and no regard for judgment.
Home is every moment
you can't bear to forget.
Home is not a house.
Home is feeling part of something
even for a moment.
It's without doubt.
to feel that you're where you should be.
There's a fraction of it
in every smile and laugh.
Home is where the heart is
and the heart goes where the people go
and some people wander.
Home is where the heart is
and because of that
home is anywhere.

This is a memory. A memory of how I feel it writing this 12 hours from home surrounded by strangers on a six day trip. Because so many moments here have felt like I'm home. Because right now I'm happy. Which often I'm not. I want to preserve this feeling. To remember that it happened. For the next time I'm low I want to remember how high I can be; even when it's unlikely circumstances .