heartland

home is where the heart is.

nothing more, nothing less.

it doesn't have to be a rambling estate,
or a shack in the woods.

it doesn't even have to be a house.

your heart could hold a sister,
the sea,
homemade apple cider,
a photograph.

sometimes home is nothing but a memory,
the sound of laughter or a smile you haven't seen in a while.

sometimes you don't even know it's there,
but absence makes the heart grow fonder.

other times it's all you've ever known.

coming home is one of the greatest feelings of all time,
second to not knowing what that feels like at all.

leaving is probably the worst.

but sometimes we're ready to leave;
sometimes we have to go just to realize where we belong.

other times we're ripped from what we thought was ours.
we vow to come back, somehow, someway.

everyone's home has a string of memories smoking from the chimney.

not all of those memories might be sweet and sunny
maybe there were a few that got bruised along the way.

find your home.

it might going back to where it all began,
or it might mean seeding somewhere new; promising.

every heart needs something to hold.
yours starts with you.