We came up over the hill and you saw the
Purple-blue mountains and you knew:
I am coming home
And I can remember breathing in the cold March air
Thinking...
I too
Am coming home.
Violets and rhododendron wild in the woods I grew up
Sliding down coal slag
Daredevil mountain biking, feet ice cold in the stream
Don't tell me I don't belong here
Or the mountains aren't my home
I dig my toes in red clay, black mud, dark brown topsoil
I run my hand along the haphazard stone retaining walls
The terraced gardens
The underwear on the clothesline
The way they talk to you like family in line at the grocery store
I think of ice cream and deer spotting and driving up and down that same road
Thinking...
Dreaming of leaving.
Coming home.
Coming home.
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