our little home.

it smelled like fresh cut grass and the lemon fresh cleaning products my mother used. smelled like hot metal and oil, the scent that clung to my father's work clothes for dear life. smelled like berry hair products and sugary perfume, my sister in her innocent adolescence. smelled like baby powder and cherry almond lotion, my signature as a young girl.

my little bedroom, with a small wooden bed and a handmade quilt. one fluffy pillow, where i laid my head and dreamt so many pleasant dreams. the little window that always let in a welcome draft. one little teddy bear, with blue and white star print, and a stack of books resting on my nightstand. a chest that held blocks and dolls with which i played hours upon hours of make-believe, when it was too rainy or cold to go outside.

our little family. huddled in the living room in front of our little gas furnace. sitting on the floor, eating a filling, hot meal. we didn't have much, and little bits of the ceiling were falling down into the carpet around us, but we always had love. i always had mom. i always had dad. and we always, always had our little home.

a/n: i have been longing to write about my childhood home, and this morning i woke up in a fever, missing it so badly i almost wanted to cry. so here it is. enjoy ♡