home once more.
the interstate's all the same:
going places.
we exit here
and leave the world behind us.
taking familiar roads,
left turns, right;
eyes closed,
we know it so well.
it never changes, year to year.
you see the lake and you're almost there:
the big brown house
with the dock out front.
the moment you step foot outside,
you know.
this is paradise.
the old wooden steps down to the water's edge
are still in disrepair,
the boat is full of spider webs,
the water laps against the dock,
icy cold, vast, and soothing.
the house is just as it has always been:
into the breezeway,
through the main door,
past the laundry and the tv,
wending through the kitchen clutter,
a left through the pantry
(mind the step),
out into the back room,
right and up the stairs,
through the dark,
around the attic ladder,
and right into the bedroom.
the same two beds
with the same flowered sheets,
the same green carpet
with the same mismatched chairs,
the same windows
overlooking the lake.
it's just as I left it.
all the same,
simply perfect.
smell that air;
it's been ages and not at all,
but I'm definitely
home, once more.

TMK 7.18.2005