english,
Literary: Anywhere but Home
I used to remember when family used to be about "us"
When "breakfast" meant waking up early,
watching Dad cook and helping Mom set the table.
I don't remember when it became chilly mornings,
waking up to the noise of an alarm clock,
eating breakfast alone, leaving the house without a goodbye.
I wonder how fast "family" became just "me".
I used to remember when family used to be about "connection",
When "car rides" meant hearing the sound of cheery laughter
As we talk the hours away, telling of old stories and new adventures.
I don't remember when it became stiff journeys,
Preferring solitude over companionship in a car full of people,
breathing in the smoke of awkward silence.
I wonder how fast "family" lost its spark.
I used to remember when family used to be about "love",
When "going home" meant being greeted at the door
With a warm hug and a comforting demeanor.
I don't remember when it became cold looks,
Leaving the door open, ready for anyone to just walk out,
Taking in the emptiness of a house that looms over our bodies.
I wonder if I can still call this house a "home".
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