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“Where do you call home?”

I would say that the place is I call home

Is a mere thirty minutes away.

But everyday that home seems so far away from me.

My home has transformed so much since I left for school.

There ain’t no more of Nana’s home cooked meals.

There ain’t no more of my little stepsister’s games and toys.

There ain’t no more overcrowded spaces with dishes over the place.

There ain’t no more of that “lived in and loved in” feeling in the living room.

There ain’t no more of the dogs I loved.

There ain’t no more of my big family.

 There ain’t nothing left except memories of what we used to be.

And what did we used to be?

A family that stretched out like an elastic band

but always seemed to snap back to one place.

Now, that one place is just museum of memories

Preserving the past of our family that didn’t last.

There are no highways,

There are no trains,

And there are no airplanes

That can take me back to my home.

Short trips down memory lane

bring me back a taste of my home.

Sometimes I still hear our laughter.

Sometimes I still taste the soul in my Nana’s cooking.

Something I still feel the bass of my dad’s music as it played through the house.

Sometimes I think back and feel nothing.

Sometimes my home is hard to remember.

 

I feel my home slipping through my fingers like sand.

I didn’t cross shores to get Duke.

My journey here was a short distance.

But I still feel distant.

From my dad who I used to see every day.

From my Nana who was one hell of a mother and a monster.

From my little brother who always put a smile of my face.

From my stepmother who almost married my dad.

From my stepsister who gave me another chance at big sisterhood.

From my mother who lives in the same zip code

Yet still remains unseen.

From my baby brother who just turned two weeks.

From my little sister who got adopted seven years ago.

From my not-so-little sister who just came back into my life.

From my little brother who has grown into a little man.

From everything and everyone

Who made my house a home to me.

 

Five months ago, I was sick of being home.

I thought I was grown

and couldn’t wait to be on my own.

Now, I’m homesick.

Wishing I could rewind back time

and reclaim that home of mine.

But time only moves forward.

And so must I.

I might feel disconnected.

I might feel angry.

Hell, I might even cry.

But with my friends and CAPS,

I know I’ll make it to the other side

of this difficult time.

“Where do you call home?”

My childhood is where I call home.

And like all of good things, it has come to end.

College is where I will begin again.

I will set my own goals.

I will make my own mistakes.

I will take my own risks.

I will pave my own paths.

And after my life has been lived,

I will forge a new home for myself.

So, where will I call home?

I don’t know.

I just see what the future holds.

Resilience Williamson is junior at Duke University. They are from Mebane, NC. They are majoring in Mathematics with a minor in Education. They are also pursuing their Teaching License in Secondary Education. Their dream is to become a high school teacher who educates and empowers black and brown children through mathematics. Afterwards, Resilience hopes to earn their MSW and MPH and become a social worker and superior advocate for children in North Carolina. Resilience believes that poetry is a powerful source for liberation and exploration. They have really been able to reclaim their narrative and embrace healing through poetry. Resilience hopes to dive into more diverse styles of storytelling as their writing develops. When Resilience is not crafting poetic narratives and conquering the world one math problem at a time, Resilience dedicates their time to developing finance and finesse strategies because they believe that art of finessing is rooted in self-investment and self-care. Resilience encourages those around them to pour into themselves whether it be mind, body, spirit, or bag.
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