Home(sick) for the Holidays
In my dreams,
I teeter down the ice-covered porch steps,
balancing a homemade pumpkin pie
on one hand,
navigating the winter wonderland
to get to the car
without landing in the snow.
Once I get there,
I let myself in,
and my brothers
are head to head
in a fierce game of Battleship
at the chrome and Formica dining table.
And my sisters,
looking like Snow White and Rose Red,
leaf through old photo albums
on the faded floral couch,
laughing.
My mom is basting the turkey,
serious about the task,
while my dad sneaks a spoonful
of mashed potatoes from the pot.
Without looking behind,
Mom shoos him away with a dish towel.
I set the pie on the kitchen table
and open my eyes
to hot Florida sunshine
and a lonely chord of homesickness,
twangs in the pit of my stomach.
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