|Looking at the porch from inside the garage|
|This photo was taken over 10 years ago|
but the house looks just the same.
"You know that thing above your shoulders is your head,
it's okay to use it."
|One of my favorite things in the attic-|
an old pump organ.
Going home, it's what we call it. Even though my address has never been theirs (which has changed several times despite the fact they haven't moved houses in over 65 years), their house is my home. And every time I go home it hits me, the house is the same as it always was, but it feels a little smaller, a little fuller, a little different but maybe I'm just bigger. And when I lean in to kiss their soft weathered cheeks, I realize they are the same as always and maybe I'm the one who is different.