Our home is a mosaic,

sloppily constructed
on whims and feelings and spirit -
things that might seem
flimsy, unstable,
tenuous in the fierce currents of life.
But just because they are constantly
shifting and creaking and settling
within our family’s walls
does not mean the structure is unsafe.
There is a hope here,
breathe it in.
A hope for meaningful days ahead.
A hope that once our children leave this place,
they will take part of it with them.
And there is laughter.
It fizzes and tickles and boldly, it thunders
from bellies and toes.
And the walls shake with it.
There is also rage,
at times it only simmers,
but sometimes it rips through
like a tornado, collecting tears
for its combustible elixir.
And we stalk its trail,
desperately
putting out the little fires
that leave us with blisters.
Sadness belongs here too.
It condensates on surfaces,
beading until the weight is too much
and it falls like rain from ceilings.
But together,
in time,
we find enough joy
to dance in the puddles.
For it is love that lights this place.
Each day it illuminates,
reflects off grubby floors and
bounces off mirrors and windowpanes.
Chasing away some shadows,
while inevitably creating new ones.
Because doing everything with love,
does not mean it will be perfect.
You see,
the mosaic of our home
changes every day.
Standing, despite it all.
And one day our children will go,
brick dust falling from their pockets,
leading them back
to their messy but wonderful beginnings.
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