There’s a list on my phone entitled things I need from home.
Number 1: a hug from my mother because what wrong ever happened in a mother’s arms?
Number 2: My father’s common sense because I am a dreamer and his feet are planted firmly on the ground because when I make decisions by myself, those big life changing decisions that leave you a little shaky and winded, I always think “what would my father do?”
Number 3: My favorite book: the Bell Jar because those figs are beginning to ripen and me and Sylvia? We’re stuck by the roots burying our fingers in the cool dirt.
Number 4: My sister’s smile because is she is 15 years old and the day she was born is the first real memory I have, I can still remember her tiny fingers and toes and now she wears my high heels and her hands envelop mine. Her teenage years are handed to me in glimpses.
Number 5: An extra mug because I drink far too much coffee and I’m tired of washing dishes because I always think too much with a sponge in my hand.
There’s a list on my phone entitled things I need from home, but I wonder when home will mean somewhere else.