House vs Home

Growing up in my parents house, it got to the point where I could navigate my way on a trip to the bathroom with the speed and stealth of a navy seal on a night mission, without the use of any light. Unfortunately, because my place is still drowned in darkness, I have been forced to play the role of the powerless prodigal son and take refuge there once again. Remembering my abilities of old, I quickly and confidently cruised toward the crapper only to plow right into my father's proud paint job like some kind of Tom Clumsy character and then feel my way around the wall as if I were a point guard defending an inbound pass. The pain and paranoia of not being able to locate the lavatory brought on feelings that every parent eventually longs for their kid to have. While I know I will always be welcome in their home, this place was truly no longer my house.