Over on Instagram, I am participating on Small Rebellious Acts of Creativity (#SRAOC) by The Jar Writer’s Collective, a weekly invitation to engage in small rebellious acts of creativity, as the name implies. I will be doing a combination of poetry, short story, art, digital collage, and photo editing. This week’s prompt is ‘the way home’.
The Way Home
Strolling in the shop, I came upon a dainty sign that read “The Way Home”. It had an arrow pointing towards a bloated red heart adorned by angel feathers. “So cliche”, I shrugged. Damn these saccharine Valentine’s-Day-Capitalist-Slaps-On-The-Face. But inside my chest it would not go unnoticed that my heart truly ached.
I knew I had lost my way home a long time ago. I frankly didn’t know what or where home was for me. Maybe I read too much into that sign. “Home is where the heart is. What the hell does that even mean? Who even needs a home or a heart anyway.” I soothed myself as I exit the seasonal aisle.
The damage was done. My mind would betray me by playing seemingly innocent scenes from my childhood. My well trained mind knew just which scenarios to skip over or fast forward to. How long had it been? I’ve lost count of the years since I’ve felt at home anywhere.