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I wrote this because we might be moving next summer.

The white paint
Still shines brightly and 
If anyone dared to paint it another color
I wouldn't recognize it.
All of the rooms are as familiar as 
An old baby blanket
Keeping me safe
And warm.
It's cluttered,
But messy isn't really the right word
Because everything about it is neat
If you know where to look.
Each piece of furniture
Means something different, something
Right.
Every time I see the mosaic above the stove
I remember the fight we had about keeping it or not.
My dad and my sister wanted it,
And my mom and I didn't.
It's still there, though.
And I'm always eternally glad that
We kept it.
The living room has the feeling of 
Many Christmases spent in front of the fire.
I'll see a dog toy on the floor and remember how crazy we thought it was
When my dad said he thought we should get a dog.
Then I'll see her and
I can't believe she wasn't always here.
My house is special.
It's not special in the way that it's different or unique,
But special in the way that it's 
Home
To me.