Homecoming

Here, a gathering of familiar strangers pass through the mirrors of their own disparate expectations of family. Their faces you could trace with your fingers in the air, their laughter like chords of a remembered song, their tears never quite revealing the discordant notes they hear, only that it is not the song their hearts require. We read into each other’s hieroglyphs stories of our own deficiencies, bridges not quite meeting a faraway shore where the bitter and the benevolent live together in nominal peace, the truth and its absence seeming equally credible. Here is where the book falls open to the place we always return as a reminder of what binds us and what draws us apart.