The exit was calling me.
See the watch.
Checked the time. Felt the hand.
Felt it’s offer, to check out and check in.
Knew it was the time, the offer, to leave this place and get home.
The gentle smile of acceptance was felt,
when I responded with certainty that it was too soon.
I had more to do here.
I had those to care for here.
I wanted to stay.
Although I contemplated the time before,
felt the rays of sight and the warmth of it all around.
Felt the love and the light and the comfort of its darkness.
I miss this place, I long for this place.
The hand let me know though that it will care for me when the time is best. It has. I get a peak of home when I look up, when it’s the season, when I roll my eyes up and back. I knew that although I passed on the exit then, the offer would come again. I felt the favor and the responsibility and the expectation though, to be chosen. To be offered is in itself is the prize.
Although the treasure may be reserved, the point is that it’s mine. It is there when I so choose.