home

what is home
drywall and paint
a creaking staircase
the little pond by the driveway
bleeding hearts and violets that were woven through my grandmother’s garden
the bay window or the little swing
for sitting and reading and talking and dreaming
the smell of cake and cookies and sweets
my grandfather’s recliner chair
worn in like his suede slippers
the buick in the garage
and the smell of gasoline
the willow tree or the fairies i swore i saw
dancing in the yard
through the pines and back into the woods laughing
home
what is home
a mountain range
tall and mighty and constant
a forest of trees for hiding in
for laughing in
for crying in
for praying to
a path worn in from walking
the smell of sap and fallen needles and cones
dust clinging to my ankles
towhees and nuthatches and juncos scurrying and rustling in the branches and leaves
snow melting and mud feeding butterflies and spring blooms
fallen leaves in autumn
and the chipmunks who run through them
the dappled light dancing through the trees
home
what is home
a piece of the soul
a silent exchange of hearts
it’s the sadness when it’s gone
for sale signs and bulldozers
a warming planet
development
home is love and pain of having and losing
and once it is lost
the knowing that part of you is lost too
home is where the heart is
home is where the heart is

—

Fern Crossway is a conservation biologist, writer, creative, and educator working with endangered butterflies in New England and the Pacific Northwest. She obtained her BS from SUNY College of Environmental Science and Forestry and is currently pursuing her PhD at the University of Washington. Fern’s work is centered in ecology and ecofeminism and her writing often explores the relationship between women and nature, and the parallels between the subjugation of women and environmental destruction.