My blog post today is inspired by the countless people who have found themselves homeless this Christmas through no fault of their own.
They took back your home and asked for the keys.
The keys that opened your front door after a long day
So that you could say Thank God! I’m home!
The keys you threw on the hall-table as you came in
The keys that dropped to the bottom of your handbag
When your arms were full with shopping.
The keys you gave your mother after you first moved into the house
So she could let the guys in to lay your floors
While you were out working hard to pay the mortgage
Oh, the excitement of it all!
The keys that opened the door the day you brought your babies home
The keys that got lost down the side of the couch that your toddler found.
The nights you lay awake, as you listened for the turn of the key in the lock . . .
Adding up the number . . . to count your teenagers safely home.
These are the keys they asked you to hand back
And now you wonder where they are?
They are locked away in a filing cabinet: In a small zip-lock bag:
In a buff manila folder marked REPOSSESSION.