From the “You are my best friend” messages randomly sent throughout the day to the “You are my sunshine” voice memos you send before I go to sleep, your words bring me strength.
By Bailee Penski
You are my home. When I see your kind blue-green eyes I am reminded of where I come from. My eyes are your eyes, many have said.
I haven’t lived in Noblesville for three and a half years but despite the comfort and warmth I have come to know in Chicago, Indiana will always be my home because you are there.
Your smile reminds me of our small white house with Oscar peeping his long basset nose through the fence in the backyard.
Your voice reminds me of our kitchen and how you spend hours humming along to Christmas songs while making the Thanksgiving turkey.
Your golden hair reminds me of the streets I grew up on with names like Amelia and Conner.
Your laughter reminds me of Alexander’s, the diner where we get cake batter ice cream with sprinkle cones and Noble Coffee and Tea, the shop where we drink our chocolate chai lattes.
I miss you all the time, Mom, but I’m grateful for your calls and texts that make me feel loved. From the “You are my best friend” messages randomly sent throughout the day to the “You are my sunshine” voice memos you send before I go to sleep, your words bring me strength.
I’m never lonely because of you. Even when you are miles and miles away, a sense of home remains within because you are here with me. You are always here with me.
I love you Mom. I love my home.