Coming Home

I will wave my arm and hand in the air and smile at my mother when she comes to pick me up from the Manchester airport.

I will hug her and smell her momma smell and let her arms wrap around my soul.

In late August as we exit the air conditioned indoors, I will no doubt be smacked in the face by the thickest of humid air.

My eyes will feast on the New Hampshire surroundings, taking in all the lush greenery as we drive towards Northwood.

I will delight in seeing my childhood home in the distance.

We will swiftly approach the outdoor cage enclosing a Black Lab and larger-than-life-horse-sized-Chesapeake Bay retriever.

Their tails will wag and their barks will bite the air.

Hopefully silence will fill the air as I exit the car and approach the pups while calling their names.

This entry was posted on Monday, July 19th, 2010 at 6:00 am and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

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