brentwood, tennessee. my bedroom. candles lit. beth orton singing. rachel tearing wall paper in the next room. sandy laughing. pizza around the kitchen table.
i'm home.
kim hugged me a lot when i stopped by. she kissed my hands and cheek like a mom. kept looking at me. it's so good to have your presence fill our home again, she said, as i breathed slowly, taking it all in. it's so good to have my family around me. i would have cried, but i'm so stopped up. sensory overload and all the other words we assign to overwhelm, to i-don't-know-how-this-goes. i just hugged kim a lot.
and listened to my music loud as i drove home.
now, it's laundry underneath the zippers of my suitcases. and unopened mail; the kind that makes you nervous. the money kind. i will attend to it all tomorrow.
for the timebeing, i'll keep looking around my room. and i'll feel transition catching up to me, sticking in my throat.
happy new year.
home.
i miss you already little sister!