i'm back home in a house i've never been before.
because there's family here that's like family, even if it's not mine.
and they know how to just let you in and be one of them. that's rare.
all the things, i recognize and the dog knew me. because i used to live with them. and many times still be with them. and sometimes forget that i can be. this is for the homeless ones to understand. who float from life to life and weave in and out of the stories of others trying to find thier own.
i wonder. are we allowed to forget how we have been loved just because we remember how we haven't been? because i do, sometimes. and when i remember it makes me happy sad. melancholy. drifter that i am.
