Silence amongst the house.
Dreadful peace in a home where the family has been cracked.
It’s a home in the sense that sleeping and eating occurs.
It’s home in the sense that we love out of despair.

Its late. The house sleeps, yet I wonder.

I see my sister sleep in a relaxed manner. Her face reveals her true age, erasing the years that pile on with her misery.
Sweet baby sister. You are loved, despite the words thrown like grenades. I’m coming home now. 

We try hard to keep things together, but how is that possible with a beer-scented house that hasn’t seen the light of pure happiness since we occupied it? 

Brother, where have you gone. Yes you are crazy, but better crazy here than crazy alone.
 
Sister you try. Stop beating up yourself and the world will do the same.

Braiden. You have my world. Nephew who knows too much for six and yet not enough to understand that not all can be fixed with a band aid and “I’m sorry”. 

Wish the world could take apologies. Can you imagine “I’m sorry”, and then the world bows in acceptance? The hearts of the sad could be lightened, the minds of the broken could be repaired. 
But wishes so grand can not be granted. Those are the wishes believed by the ones with faith. Faith in something I used to see but then I opened my eyes. 

I repeat “I’m sorry” till my mind can no longer find the phase.

The house is still perfumed with beer.
The family still scarred with sadness.
A home is home.