my what a week it’s been. and it’s still only the beginning.
in truth, i just want to be home. home home, with my family. curl up under a blanket and watch old movies with my mom. make up corny one-liners with my dad. eat homemade peppermint bark. smell the smokiness of the wood stove. hug my grammy. watch the snow gather on the pines and in the stubbly corn fields and on the rusted roof of the neighbors’ old barn.
but i’m not. and no matter how much i wallow in this self-pity, it won’t change the fact that i’m not home, nor will i be this Thanksgiving.
so i guess i’ll try to make the best of it all.