They told me that when I left, you cried in that place I call home. Well, they didn't actually say where but where else would you? To you, I am tied to the pillows and plastic containers you fix for me every morning. I am the question, disguised in a statement, begging for stories of your days in your home and other people's homes you've been in. I am the quiet hush of the wind calming you down when you think you failed to meet people's expectations. I am the hand helping when there are burdens to carry. I am the catalogue of things you like not hesitating to treat you ice cream if money is at hand. I am the adventurer bringing you along to grocery stores and fruit shake stands filled with the confidence that we always return alive.
I am the forgetful who will ask where this and that are. I am the messy who will leave the bed unmade in whatever time of the day she wakes up. I am the hungry who will go down the stairs to take food from the pantry every five minutes or so. I am the lazy who will not care so much about cleaning her stained clothes herself. I am the adventurer who set out on a journey away from home unsure if after time, home will still be home.