I want to know about homesickness. I want to know that my handwriting reminds me of my mother. I want to know that chocolate reminds me of Sunday mornings. I want to know if there will ever be a day when I don’t miss home. I want to know that the answer will always be no.
I want so badly to write about my first semester of college. Of course I want to write about it, as “writing about it,” is what I’ve done for everything important in my life since I was eleven. There are blog posts in my archive and stacks of journals in my closet that stand to …
Here is what I know about leaving: It stings and it tears and it leaves you with tunnel vision to the forevers that are ending. You would think that after moving as many times as I have that I would be used to it by now; that maybe this time it would be less painful …