If home is where my hat is, I seem to have lost it.
Occasionally I think I’ve heard it through the telephone or seen it on a screen glare,
or caught it passing through in our stories, anecdotes and laughter,
Where the boring parts are skipped in favour of flicking to the good bits –
Because home can come in many forms,
adapting its meaning as it is transported across the miles between us,
a skill proven by growing up with uncertainty, between two houses, on our weekly schedule.
Sometimes I go searching for it in the wrong places,
Or sometimes I think I may have found it somewhere else,
falsely recognising the familiarity in a safe space
I am wrong, of course.
Because it exists between us.
Our own special version of it.
Not the safety of four walls, a front door and a gate,
But four kids, a mother and a dog.
Caitlin is a biology student at Brighton whose aim in life is to snuggle a sloth. Bridie is her older sister by three years. After spending 12 years of their lives sharing a room, they thought it was time that they shared some poetry too.