homesick

I close my eyes

The world becomes the sound of coquis

Which can't survive anywhere outside of the 110 by 40 miles I call home

Except for the time they managed to turn up in Hawaii

But that was definitely an accident

They sing to each other

With a song so bright and clear that it onomatopoeically named them

Which is sweet in tree frogs

But not in people

Or else I would be called

All the sounds that I make in the morning when my alarm goes off

Coquis sing loudest when the rain has just fallen

And the air is crisp and wet

In an effort to find their mates

Which is a much more appealing cat call than

Ey Yo Ma, if you ask me.

Their songs are all subtle

Playing in the background to television episodes, arguments, gentle sleep

But once one gets started, they all sing

So the sweet subtle song becomes a wave once you notice it

And then, you can't not notice it because it's everything

I close my eyes and think of home

I think of barefoot walks to my grandmother's house

Of sweet coffee with milk and fresh bread

Of dancing to music as the radio plays and my dad butchers the lyrics

Of my mom brushing my hair as I fall asleep to the sounds of the coquis

I close my eyes and think of home

And the silence is deafening