Where Do I Belong?

I miss walking down long dirt roads in budget store flip flops. Feeling every sharp rock through the soles reminds me that I am alive as the sun warms my face and the clean breeze blows my hair into unforgiving knots. Surrounded by tall grass and strange insect noises. I think this is where I belong.

I miss my first love. The way he wrote our initials on the cement wall in snow in front of our classmates. The way his mother didn’t approve of our relationship made me feel rebellious for the first time in my life. The way I missed him when he was gone and the way I hated life without him when he was far away for good. I miss that time we met again and even though we never got to say goodbye properly, I even miss listening to “Don’t Turn Around” by Ace of Base on repeat for days afterwards. Maybe this is where I belong.

I miss hunting for salamanders for hours until our shoulders were an angry shade of red. My sister and I planned on selling them all to a pet store. We caught hundreds of those little things. I have yet to see another salamander since that day. Maybe I should have opened a salamander store and I could have been happy selling those little things to happy children. Maybe this is where I belong.

I miss holding his hand. Looking over and knowing that he was always just there – loving me. All of me. Even if I got angry and said bad things, he still loved me. Even though there were times when I stamped my feet and wanted to punch his face, I still loved him. I miss the way he was with our young son. The way he showed him off with pride, even though I didn’t let him name him “Abdul Jabbar”. I miss feeling safe because I knew no matter what, even though bad things were going to happen, he always had a way to make it better. Maybe this is where I belong.

I miss his little shoes. I loved shopping for his shoes more than my own. I miss his curly, blonde hair and I miss wondering where that even came from. I miss his little voice and the way sand would stick to his clammy palms. I miss his one piece jumpers and days in our backyard – the one with grass up to our kneecaps because his newly widowed mother still didn’t figure out how to work the lawn mower. I miss how he needed me. He couldn’t go to the fridge and make himself a sandwich or pour his own bowl of cereal in the morning. I even miss how he could fall asleep anywhere. Maybe this is where I belong.

Now we wear the same size of socks. He walks around our apartment wearing headphones and listening to songs about “shuffling” everyday. He collects things – everything. He has a pet rat who I find repulsive but he absolutely loves with all of his big giant heart. His baby talk is disappearing more and more everyday. He got upset when someone called him a “N00B” on the playground, and to tell you the truth I’m still not entirely sure what exactly a “N00B” is. He can laugh bigger than anybody I know. Even though things are tough and sometimes I find myself wanting to pull my hair out in a dramatic fashion and as cheesy and cliché as it sounds, at least we have each other. This is where I belong.

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Hello..this is my blog. I bought this fancy theme and I don't know what to write here just yet. Maybe one day remind me I have to write something inspiring here?


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