The door didn't creak like this yesterday,

But today it screeches in pain.

Things can change suddenly.

I am standing still,

Yet a sign appears out of nowhere,

"You are now leaving your comfort zone."

I will have to move to stay 

In a place I want to be.

So I sally forth and saunter,

So I  shuffle off

To Buffalo or somewhere North

Of Memphis, Tennessee or Tupelo County, Mississippi.

My family in the 1600's had two homes in Tannassee,

Which is now called Tennessee.

Indian wars forced them south,

To the shores and fertile places

Of Alabama.

They had land there in the 1700's,

200 head of cattle, a big barn,

And in the custom and the way of the Cherokee,

They built another two wooden houses, side by side,

One for summer, one for winter.

But there were more wars,

And rumors of wars,

And for the Cherokee, it was the end of life as my family knew it,

For in the 1800's, what was left of them 

Who were not murdered were evicted by "laws" passed

To evict them, rounded up and forced to march to Oklahoma 

On the Trail of Tears,

And records show my great great grandmother was born in Talequah, 

Indian Territory 1868.

Maybe this is why I never feel at home.

Maybe there is something in my DNA 

That will not let me get attached

To the certain towns or houses

Through which I migrate,

But only a deep attachment to the feeling I can't shake,

That everything could change in a heartbeat,

And I could be matched off 

To start over with nothing.

-jenn