This house does not feel like my home. Do not get me wrong. I am grateful for the roof over my head. However, there are things that are a dread. Bitter winter nights make this place feel more like an ice cave than an actual bungalow. With baseboard heat and poor insulation, it can be a challenge to find the warmth of a campfire that grows. So I turn to kerosene and space heaters. Which is better than no feature. In ways, these items make it feel a little cozy. Yet, a house is not a home when you are lonely. I am okay with being by myself. As long as I have my dogs, though. They are my ammo from my fearing ego. Let’s continue by weighing in on a certain time of year. When lights, decorations, peace, and love most appear. Christmastime will forever be my favorite holiday. I could illuminate my space with glowing bulbs and my special tree but it doesn’t have that same glee. To wake up alone, without the innocent child-like wonder is beastly. I do not know how much longer I will be here for. Right now, I’ll just go with the flow. Not knowing when the next five years will provide me with a new hello. Only question is, where is the place that I can call home?