I wonder if the pieces of my heart are still left out there. Are the pieces searching for me? Are they affixed between the self-professed failures or my heart-painted dreams? Am I too busy in constant repair to know that I no longer need to fix myself or find the pieces?
My grandfather once told me, “You love too easily and too hard.” He understood that love is never a careless act and the state of the heart is fragile. Every time you give a measure of your heart away, you risk that piece never returning. Our heart pieces are shapes of love, hope, and faith. Each fragment of the heart delivered through digging the dwelling of our souls. Hearts built from fibers of intimacy and authenticity housing our desires.
When we lose things that matter, experience crisis, or grief, our hearts feel dismantled. Often we are left feeling destitute, afraid, hopeless, and homeless for a place we are not sure even exists. We long for a place that has no death, tears, or fears. We hold ourselves hostage to the memories forcing pieces into our hearts that don’t fit or have purpose anymore. Sometimes we become vagrant, desperate in recreating a new sense of normalcy. We take the trash and call it treasure because even that constructed false pretense gives us a sense of safety and security.
We all want to find home for our hearts.
What would happen if we let the pieces of our heart stay with the people and places that hurt us or helped us along the journey? Instead of rehashing our pain and reestablishing it’s presence, could we go on knowing those pieces would find their way back to us if need be. Could we no longer fulfill the impossible task of romanticizing the truth?
Home.
Home is where we stand in the light not cowering in the shadows of our pain. We become aware of the constant process of heartbreak and the possibility of mending. We give our souls the opportunity to mate. We allow others to help us sort through the trash and make sense of the treasure. They help us to decipher when we’ve mistaken a house for a home and where we belong.
Home is a place we all deserve to know.
Home is in my nephews smiles, my grandmother’s voice, hugs from my friends and family, kisses from my beloved, the ocean, the mountains, a sweet memory, a book, an encouraging word, a song, the kind eyes of a stranger, a random selfie from a friend, the smell of food cooking, a kind gesture, the snuggling of my mom’s dog. Home for me is peace, love, and happiness.
Home is where the heart is free and wherever you need it to be.
It is my prayer for us that we all get home eventually.
– Dominique Mack
