A soft breeze blows through gauzy curtains,
which shift to let in the sun’s gentle rays.
Morning dew clings to the flowers in my garden,
their scent wafting through the air and into my bedroom.
Just beyond the threshold, I hear the clatter of pans in the kitchen
in preparation for an easy Sunday breakfast.
I open my eyes and relish the feeling;
the comfort of waking up in a house that is my own,
a place that I filled with family and love to create a peaceful life.
But just as I begin to rise, the noises shift into something else.
The feeling of ease dissipates as quickly as mist.
The clanging in the kitchen becomes the blaring of my alarm clock.
The dew in my garden becomes the scent of damp mildew
lingering in my dusty apartment.
This time when I open my eyes, it is dark and I am alone,
dreaming wistfully of my own home.

Editor: Erynn Crittenden