I have been carrying around a homesickness that is heavy and hard and hallow. It lives like a small bird in a cage, like a structure in my heart, and there are times when it is all I can do to hold on to it, contain it, keep it in situ.
I've taken the long and far road from my small home in the middle of the ocean. Sometimes I don't know if I will ever go back again, if I can, or if I will. But I've been dreaming of water, and iron woods, and muddy sandy children. I miss an entire section of the world so much sometimes I wonder if I will always live like this, walking around with a half-broken heart.
