The indescribable emotion of comfort
Knowing that the volleyball
Now racing through the air towards the ground
Will land in a spot no one seems to be
Or looking outside the window of your car late at night at the small and warmly lit dots that fly past your window
Shadowed by the stars above them
As you are driving on one of your countless road-trips with your family.
This emotion that sits fittingly into the snug hill that gazes upon the smooth-rolling green pastures beyond itself at the end of my road
in the valley of Rockingham,Virginia.
The vivid glow of yellow and gold-tinted light
highlighting the square-shaped and open windows of the outside that view inside to where my family sits
Where I sit.
For any person to peer inside and hear a roar of ridiculous sounding singsong
A screechy rendition of the Messiah two octaves higher than the already soprano-fitting notes
Or the cracking echo of a small water bottle being flipped over and over again across every hard surface of the downstairs
The glowing fireplace sitting in the background
lighting the way for success
to accomplish the goal
Of landing the bottle upright
would not be rare or uncalled for.
Or to step foot into the instantly aroma-filled room and space
of cinnamon and spices.
The familiar smell tingling the interior of my nose as I breath in
Then breath back out
the corners of my mouth turning upwards in ecstasy.
As I look down to investigate
the soft and tickling touch that just pranced across my mulberry painted toes
I spot an orange and white fluffball of a cat, returning back to me from underneath one of our many old and antique tables
for more love and affection
The continuous purr and soft throb that departed from the small animal permeates me with a feeling
So warm and cordial
that not even a touch as soft as a butterfly landing on the tip of my finger, from the sun, could compare.
As I make my way over to the compact and coffee-colored couch that sits staring at the colorful TV screen
Usually lit with the fiery humour of The Middle or The Goldbergs.
The small lights hidden in the rustic decor of the living room
The carmine-colored wooden sign that spells out “JOY” sitting at the top of the stand that holds the TV
Or the glass jar that holds the fake twine of plastic berries and leaves that surrounds the small bulb of light in the center
twinkling back at my cheery eyes.
I plant myself down next to my mom snuggled in the deepened corner of the couch
Where a permanent imprint of my body remains in the textured grooves of the cushion
Allowing the familiar laughs and voices of my parents, brothers, and sister
To consume my thoughts and myself
Because I am finally home.