coming home

I use a gold key for the top lock and a silver key for the bottom lock. I push hard to open the door because it has swollen in the heat. I step carefully inside and make my way to the kitchen to turn on the light--the bulb in the entrance hall has burned out. Ada's half drunk cup of coffee sits on the counter. I drop my lunch containers in the sink and move slowly into the living room.

There is a little light from the still setting sun. A westward exposure guarantees me front row seats to the most glorious sunsets. It also guarantees me heat; I turn on the aircon. The next thing I move to is the bar where the record player sits. I flip back to Side A and stand by as the static turns to the opening notes of Honey Hi by Fleetwood Mac.

Back to the back of the apartment, through the little hallway, into my room. The bed is made, a rare feat, so I strip and lay my clothes for the day across the bed. No sense in getting any more wrinkles in this skirt. Before I slip into my shorts and go to dinner I sprawl across the rainbow blanket. My favorite room in the apartment is my room. With a pink wall, shelves of shoes, shelves of books, and the most comfortable bed it is everything I want in a room.

It is everything I want in a home.