Home is a place you make. We’ve learned the neighbors’ names. They sound different than ours.
His hands were always a sea of calluses. I can’t remember them any other way.
We had only what we needed once. Happiness snuck up and found us here.
More than a touch, not quite a caress.
They’re leaving now. He says to a better land.
Home is a place you make. These are just the boards and nails and prairies we thought we deserved. Home feels different now.