Homesick

I walked out the door
    too many years ago
    to remember any of the finer details of that day

I know my bags were filled
    with scraps of anger
    still sharp enough to cause a paper cut on my hands

I had empty pockets and worn shoes
    My ears ringing from your scorn
    The Greyhound ticket firmly clenched in my teeth

I was homesick
    for a home I never knew

Jamey Boelhower is a writer and teacher in a public school. His writing often reflects his own life experiences as well as personal observations of the world around us. He is also a husband and father of six children.