Between Bruises & Blooms

For so long,
home felt like a sentence
missing half its words.

Beds made
for children sleeping somewhere else.

Shoes by the door
that did not belong
to every pair of feet
my heart was counting.

I kept listening
for voices that weren’t there.

Kept imagining
the sound of all of them
under one roof again—

the arguing,
the laughing,
the sudden crash
from another room
followed by
I’m okay!

I wanted the mess.

God,
I wanted the mess.

Blocks scattered across the floor.
Baby toys under my feet.
Someone asking for a snack
while someone else cries
because their sibling breathed
in the wrong direction.

Laundry multiplying
like it has its own heartbeat.

Cups everywhere.

Noise everywhere.

Children
everywhere.

Mine.

All mine.

All home.

And tonight,
I look around this house
that is louder
and messier
and fuller
than it has been,

and I swear
even the walls
are breathing differently.

Like they remember.

Like the rooms themselves
had been holding their breath
with me.

There is no empty place
I have to avoid looking at.

No silence
where a voice should be.

No counting miles
between my arms
and the children
they ache for.

Just this—

feet on the floor,
toys in every direction,
babies babbling,
brothers existing
in the same rooms again.

Chaos.

Beautiful,
ordinary,
holy chaos.

I don’t need perfect.

I never did.

I just needed this house
to hold all of their laughter
at the same time.

I needed to stand
in the middle of the wreckage
of an ordinary day
and realize

there is no one left
to wait for.

No one missing.

No chair
holding an absence.

Tonight,

every child
I can tuck beneath a blanket,

every forehead
I can kiss goodnight,

every voice
I have spent so long
longing to hear—

is here.

And after everything,

after all the waiting,
all the fighting,
all the nights
I tried to convince myself
that someday
would actually come—

someday is sleeping
under my roof.

My house is full.

My arms are full.

My heart is overflowing
into every messy corner.

Finally.

Finally.

My babies are home.