Us, Home

us 8Emily and I read these to each other, back and forth, paragraph to paragraph, on stage two nights ago. Neither of us knew what the other wrote until we heard our words in the room that night. (Emily’s pieces are on the left, mine on the right.)

Feels Like Home

In the natural arc of a human’s life, we define and redefine “home.” At first, it’s the dark wooshy wet womb, ticking around us. We float in the warm saline—perfectly at home with our bodies and our surroundings. Then it’s the skin-smell of our parents, their arms, their wide eyes, their smiles. Then our rooms, our siblings, our beds, our dinner tables. Then maybe continue reading…

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