How It Feels

by Luciana Fisher

I have lived in many houses, 

But never at a home. 

The plastic bag in which I kept my belongings faithfully aided me 

With getting here 

And there, 

While facing the unknown. 

(How does it feel like? To have a home?) 

I grew up around people but was always left alone. 

(How does it feel like? To never be alone?) 

Night after night, my tiny hands clutched the cold metal bars on the windows, hoping the wind would carry my cries! 

“Mom! Please come home!” 

(How does it feel like? To have a mom?) 

Looking out the window, I’d see people going by 

I can’t help but wonder which father could be mine. 

(What is it like? Having a father of your own?) 

Do you know what it’s like? For a child? 

To navigate this world all alone? 

I named objects and assigned them life. 

In my head, I made them my family in disguise. 

(What is it like? Having a real one to hold you tight?) 

I made my plate with leftovers from others when they were gone 

As my feet bled, crushed by handed down worn-out shoes. No one seemed to notice I’d grown. 

I slept on the floor because I didn’t have a bed of my own 

(What does it feel like? To be tucked in after Storytime?) 

I never had a birthday party, a cake, or a gift to call mine. 

(Can someone please describe the feeling of a child blowing out candles and making wishes while others celebrate – THEIR life?!) 

I played barefoot with other kids until dark. 

I always hoped to be invited in when their parents called them from the park. 

So, for a moment, I can play pretend I live there too and witness what it’s like 

To have dinner, not a slice 

And sit at a table with a mom, a dad, and a sibling still alive. 

Do you know what it’s like? For a child? 

To navigate this world alone? 

Thank you, Mom. 

Thank you, Dad. 

But it’s time I went back. 

To the house, 

That will never  

Be a Home.