I wanna go home in anticlimatic

Heard someone say that mid panic attack earlier and it ran me over like a bus.

Not just because I knew the home they were talking about was gone, as of last year.

Not just because I share that sentiment myself, almost all the time, about a place that is likewise gone- lone gone, in my case.

It reminded me a bit of Bubba’s dying words, and other war time dramas about men about to die expressing their deepest urge and need when all pretenses and postures have been stripped away, and always it’s just to go home.

It feels like all that’s left of my home is a glowing grain of sand, like the end of The Never Ending Story, more a tiny seed of an idea than an actual place.

Perhaps it can be planted, and grow anew for someone else?