This is home.
Where my beginning started. Where I hope to sail past the veil to the end.
This is home.
Where red soil cakes my skin, like shed skin ready to fall off but unwilling to be cast aside.
This is home.
Memories and scars interlock like pavement tiles leading to the far reaches of my mind.
This is home.
The roof hangs low, a shield from intruding rays and nosey wind.
This is home.
A shadow I longed to escape, a hug I longed to embrace ardently.
This is home. The threshold to my beginning and my end.
Thank you Rochelle for hosting the writing event Friday fictiooneers. The rule is to write a 100 word piece in response to the provided picture. Please click the link to visit Rochelle’s blog. It will be worth your while. And click this link to read other stories and write ups.

Also written in memory of my step-brother who sadly died 20/4/23.
Though we were no longer close, his death is a reminded that life is fragile.
A reminder that no one else will fight for your life as you would.
A reminder that many are the dreams we rise with, sadly some will go back to sleep with one single blow.
It is well.
All roads lead home.