As if they were gifts . . .

When you leave home, you miss all the things you take for granted. Like warm hugs, a shoulder to cry your tears upon, and sun on pizza. The color purple, soap suds against the sink, flowers on tables, and rain dripping from holes in the eves. And when you come back, there they all are, right where you left them. You just see them a little more than you did before. See God.