Home again, home again, jiggity jig.
This time, it is not the booby prize.
Home again is peaceful with mother and daughter porch talks, late night comedy, and dinners and Netflix with aunts.
My mother wears a shirt “I Do Everything,” but now does it with joy.
I am no longer a cyborg endlessly scanning items and praying for human contact.
It is a chance to plot my future career and recover from silence and stilted conversation.
I am organizing my books and love letters, borrowing costume jewelry from my mother’s trove, and making cappuccinos for tourists.
New lovers await. New friends to meet. A new opportunity to get comfortable with change.
Change will come soon and this time: no tears.