home. the word evokes mental pictures, memories, feelings, and for most…a deep longing.

i say the word often, as lingering son completes his third week in icu. home evokes feelings of hope for him. hope for family, hope for normalcy and routine. hope for love over perfunctory politeness.

hope for the place everyone knows how he communicates, where everyone speaks to him as an adult, where there is comforting, and no one asks ‘what does he go by?’.

home is where wiggling toes or shoulder shrugs are greeted with encouragement. where his wrinkled brow says he needs a change of pace, or something isn’t right. home is where he is part of life, not someone’s job for the day.

we hope to go home in the morning.

it’s about time.


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