i am ...

i am living in the wrong city. or i am not living in the right city. there's a difference between the two.growing up i lived in four different homes. in the first; on a wall in my bedroom, my father painted a mural of disney characters riding inside a school bus. he tells me he used to paint scenic winter watercolour in college. the house had a piano that only my sister and i played. those sharps and flats now accumulate dust and age. the strings have not been tuned, nor played in years. my father used to do tai chi on saturday mornings hours before the sun decided to rise. i want to learn tai chi. as for the other three homes. i never lived in them long enough to see grass grow or leaves fall. the nails never popped, the floors failed to creak at night to tell me bedtime stories. so, in many ways, they are insignificant. forgotten. and irrelevant.