My grandfather’s house didn’t have a telephone, 

Loved ones lived on memory and good fortune, 

For the longest time, distance carried such importance 

That my grandfather was nearly heart broken, 

When his house was finally filled, with distant voices

I was fascinated with the idea of those who lived so far from home, 

I was enthralled by the idea of life, outside of home

If only we had listened to grandfather, 

When I ran away from home, I didn’t know I was taking home with me 

My mother hugged me goodbye twice but I only looked back once, 

I belonged to the distance now, the one my grandfather so revered, 

You see, I wanted to get away, 

Hide in the distance, so I may have an excuse to say, 

Talking to you twice a week is enough, 

If we talk more we’ll run out of things to talk about, 

There was a drought of voices back home,

And I blamed my absence on the abundance of things we shouldn’t say.