The Backup Plan
We called it that at first—
the second address,
the quiet backup
we hoped we'd never need.
This was home:
a quiet condo
with nature outside the window,
an unblocked view,
a patio
waiting for gatherings
that never arrived.
A drawer of children's mugs
waiting for hands
that grew too big.
The door knows our face.
The neighbours know our story.
They wanted a nature-lover's paradise.
We brought a family.
The first home
was never temporary.
So we wondered
if we should leave earlier,
not because we stopped loving it,
but because sometimes
a home can hold you
without holding everyone around you.
The backup is different.
We chose it.
Morning sun.
Security.
The lift that checks the card
before it carries you home.
A little more private.
A little more expensive.
A life designed
before we know
whether we will want it.
Perhaps that is the strange thing
about two homes:
one remembers
who we were.
The other waits
to discover
who we become.
The app remembers
two addresses.
The doors recognize
one face.
And we still call it
the backup plan.