The Heart

I have a place for making miso tofu seaweed soup and relaxing with it into a deeper warmth. I have a place for dreaming on a Saturday night with all the time in the world. I have a place for writing children’s books, and telling stories to our daughter, and hanging finger paintings on the wall. I have a place for picking up toys and clothes, and doing the laundry, and teaching each other about art and music. I have a place for typing poems and writing letters to friends that we don’t want to forget about. I have a place for listening to each other, a place for giggling on the livingroom rug, a place for making love because we want to. I have a place to wash and keep neat, where we can find things when we need them, a place for watering the plants and paying the bills, a comfortable place, a safe place, a place where everything is the way it is because we decide to make it that way. I have waited a long time to have a place that I can make these claims about; I have waited a long time to have someone to tell this to; a home, a place of my own, a place to share with you.

A Place

5 January 1986