Maybe Next Year…

But I am of the eternal diaspora. One of many wandering children dwelling in tents in this vast wilderness. Home is a memory that I can’t remember. Rust and decay have eaten away at its core and corrupted its foundations.

Home Again, Home Again

They wheeled me down to pre-op around 4pm on Thursday. I was so nervous that my pulse jumped from 97 to 123 while they were taking my vitals. I cried quite a bit, and hated myself for it, especially since the tears were visible on my cheeks during transport. I was also trembling, because I... Continue Reading →

Home is…

Home is… Home is a cup of chamomile tea a fuzzy blanket a classic novel oversized sweat pants your t-shirt Home is fresh homemade bread eggs, sunny side up, in bed Champions League Football Mythbusters reruns Lord of the Rings Legos Home is waking up beside you a warm embrace a goodnight kiss two-day stubble... Continue Reading →

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