Dinosaurs

There is something about home- the comfortable smells, the familiar kitchen layout, the songs of weekend mornings that I long for today.

The warm sunsets that smell like barbeque, the sweet sound of piano in the distance, taking back roads just to be alone a little longer. I romanticize of times of coziness, growth, a false sense of wealth and purity.

Sometimes I feel home in fleeting moments of nostalgia; when foxtails bloom, or eating a peanut butter sandwich, or I am out past my curfew.

When I am feeling loved and when I feel hated.

I dream of road trips past desert dinosaurs and walks along the creek avoiding the intricate artwork of spiders.

For four years home has haunted me the same way it comforts me, like the ghostly hand of a lost loved one.