A Place Called Home

I should leave before my parents come home.
But I’m so comfortable here.
The closest thing to “home.”
The walls I grew up in.
I used to look out these windows and yell at my friends to wait up.
And the whole property was our playground.
We used to picnic on the roof. 🙂
We used to climb up the side wall of the building that is covered in bricks.
Up two 90° stories of bricks.
Who the hell was watching us?
No one.
Everyone.
My husband and I thought about buying a house around the corner.
It’s $1,800,000.
Give or take.
That was short lived.
But it’s ok.
My childhood is here; not necessarily my adulthood.
God knows where that is.

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About Ave Valencia

My friends say I'm an artist. My cats think I'm the greatest thing since smoked salmon. My family- well let's just leave it at that.

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