The Place By Sean Odera

  I wonder where I should go, someplace nice, someplace old, someplace laced with gold. My parents always say that there is always somewhere someone is meant to be, in a house, or even under a tree. A place where someone can go and feel free as if all the burdens, the problems, the losses, and the heartbreaks were all simply carried away lifted high and sent far out so they may set you free.

Such places surely can’t exist. I’ve searched for years and days, yet I have never experienced such a place. I’ve had friends and lost family, and yet I still haven’t found the place for me. Everyone says it takes time but that is what I don’t have, time, no time to play no time to rest, I must always do my best. Work hard, do well constantly under the spell that my effort will provide me with all the luxuries of life. But does it?

The days are done, and my time has come, and there I sit laughing at how dumb how blind I’ve been, to go searching for a place that I believed had already been built. I had been looking for a place that did not yet exist, like those scientists wondering if God is real; Unlike them, I got what I desired I found the place where I'm meant to be it’s not in a house, or under a tree, this place is called Home.