In the arrival of spring without winter,
I feel I do not deserve
birdsong and sunlight on cheeks
unbitten by frost.
Spring is only spring when
it emerges out of melting icicles
snow evaporating off of crushed grass.
But this year,
Snow never came.
When too-early daffodils emerge,
I wish
in the desert wrongness
for winter.
I grieve for
a snowman never built.
My kids behave their absolute worst at home. So do I, when it comes down to it. We all yell and scream and cry. Home becomes a place where all those emotions come out.
It can be discouraging. I would like our home to be calm and clean and happy. But so often it feels like my home is full of garbage: Actual garbage. Emotional garbage. All those worst moments that I wish didn’t exist.
I think the wrong way to deal with this is to try to eliminate all those bad moments. Because those bad moments need to happen. We all need a place where we can behave without expectations for a moment.
And home can be that safe place. Home is the place where we can scream and cry and struggle. We put on a face everywhere else, and then at home we can totally relax and let all of the garage out, that garbage that we keep hidden.
It’s a really good thing that my kids behave badly at home. Because they feel safe there. They feel like they can.
Home becomes sacred because it houses all of us, not just the good bits.
Heather Hoyt 