I will be home on Wednesday. It will have been 98 days since I left home. In this, I am able to find comfort, knowing that I have gone 98 days without seeing my parents, or coming home (not that it was an option), and that I am still alive. That is, to say, I can survive without them. At least, for the most part.
Even last year before I came home, I had really intense dreams. Dreams about losing things, or faulty plane rides, people with contorted faces, loud noises. Maybe it means something. Maybe it's simply my brain settling down.
But tomorrow I'll give a presentation. I plan on bribing my classmates with Airheads so they'll pay attention. I'll go to my Creative Writing: Poetry! class and my Spanish class. I'll pack. Routine things, you know? Print out a plane ticket, make a mixed CD for long drives through Indiana streets, worry about looking nice for family and friends. Silly stuff, really.
But not so silly that I still don't love it.
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1 comment:
Umm...I miss your words.
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