You’d think that since I’m a senior this year, I wouldn’t get homesick.
But alas, I STILL am. Sitting here before I go off to church. That’s what happens when I look at pictures. Pictures of my mommy and daddy, their faces filled with love and joy and comfort. Pictures of old friends, new friends, friends I’ll see again tomorrow, friends I just saw last night, friends who I won’t see again for years. Pictures of my brother with that smirk of his that always manages to irritate me. Pictures of my grandma and grandpa, the two people I love most in this world. Pictures of my cousins, uncles, aunts.
Pictures that bring back memories of a big, loud home with family all around. The warmth of a Christmas fire, hot cocoa, and a good romance novel with the scent of fresh pine in the air. Or of the shiny sea with the slippery sand beneath my feet and the laughter of friends filling the air. Or of my backyard with its garden of green that comes in many shades. The cool air, the smell of morning dew, the sweet voices of the morning lark. And my brother when he was four, running across the lawn and occasionally diving into the swimming pool so that my dad had to jump in and save him.
Memories. Forever haunting, yet forever beautiful. I can see, hear, and smell the atmosphere in my dreams, yet I cannot seem to touch those memories. I reach out only to grasp nothing but air. But they are still there. And I guess everybody must create new memories because life goes on.