Home (2)

-

-

I know what home is.

Home is

Little boys with roguish smiles who dance just barely out of reach,

Nine-year-old divas who still believe in pink butterfly-winged fairies,

Boys with chipped teeth who insist on being called "Monkey-Boy," apparently on pain of death, and

Demanding four-year-old girls who like nothing more than evading baths by any means necessary.

-

Home is

Women addicted to shopping, be it for boxes of fine perfume or bags of onions,

Boys who turn up the volume on the worst songs just to freak their moms into sending them outside,

Working men without enough spare time to sleep, much less play, and

Little brothers who accidentally break new glass cups and then deny their very existence.

-

Home is

Girls who get their mothers birthday presents but pretend they're from their brothers,

Tiny Shih-Tzus who try to wrestle a bear (okay, so it's really a golden retriever, but don't tell them that),

Babies in pink who learn to walk three weeks early and refuse to cry when they fall down, and

Sneering teenagers who boss around their sisters but still cry when they break their arms.

-

Home is

Girls who stand on rooftops and shout "GOOD MORNING!" to the world in the dead of night,

Boys who insist Armageddon will come around if they actually participate in sports,

Russian girls who wear dangling pearl earrings and are afflicted by permanent writer's block, and

Girls who update their blogs religiously, even if it's just to say that they don't like Judge Judy pens.

-

I know what home is.

This isn't it.

But…

I can adjust.