Yesterday I stopped by my mom’s house to pick up some laundry I had left in the dryer. My intentions were to stay only a few minutes to fold my clothes and be on my way. As I walked into the living room, I gave a hug and a kiss to Loren, my stepdad. As I walked past the kitchen and down the hallway to the laundry room, I heard my mom call out to me. “Is that you, mija?”

I turned around and backtracked the few feet to my mom’s bedroom. I popped my head into her room and smiled. Her room was in shambles. She and Loren were going to a concert in Rapid, and she was trying to find out what to wear. My mom is an absolute clean freak, so this tornado outburst would last only until she had settled on something to wear. After that, everything would be put back into meticulous order. I walked inside and flopped down on her bed. Helping her find the perfect outfit always takes awhile.

As I sat on the bed, I heard her mumbling to herself in Spanish. In that moment,I felt so at home. This was the mom I think of so fondly. I have so many memories sitting on my mom’s bed, watching her try on outfit after outfit. She would ask me how it looked, and my answers never usually mattered. The sound of her voice was comfort I miss now that I don’t see her often. I miss home, which is so odd to me. I love my home with Zach and Miko and Oliver. I love the way my life is going. Yet, I will always miss the small moments like these. To me, home will always be the smell of beans simmering on the stove. It will be the mariachi music accompanied by the sound of a vacuum. Home is with my mom, and everything I love about her.


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