Reflections of a time at home
Written December 7th, 2017
Coming home meant remembering the things that use to be. The constant nostalgia was exhausting, so I tended to find my way out immediately. Most of my time spent here, I rendered myself emotionless and when I was finally alone at night I would write down everything, and there I was, in a little book I had made up all of myself. The emotional being that I can’t help but being was trapped in words, written on a page.
Today I woke up and I communicated with my mother over a brisk walk. I was present and eloquent and I felt like I had done something brilliant but hadn’t been paying enough attention. She noticed I was different. There, the overwhelming sense of nostalgia, the confidence to articulate and me. I’ve been home for weeks now and I’m not restless here. The timing was perfect, the trees were perfect and I’ve decided to go to Patagonia while teaching an Spanish course. I don’t usually share what I write but today was different. I plan on writing while I’m away and if you find yourself still reading this thanks for reading friend.
-Lauren
