I close my eyes, and it almost feels like i am back home, curled up on the two cobalt blue lawn chairs with my pink care bears blanket. The blanket is there, because of the mosquitoes and well because even in 2009 its still not okay for an 11 year old girl to be wearing shorts outside. But, I don’t mind, I am 11 years old and currently the world doesn’t go much further than the Harry Potter book I am reading. I can still remember the cool breeze on my face and the smell of sand after rain.
Its ironic that as I recall this memory I remember it as home. That day on the lawn chair had felt like anything but home. It was a new city, a new house. The summer we moved wasn’t even over yet, and I was still crying myself to sleep every night, thinking of all the goodbyes I didn’t get to say and all the faces I would never see again. 11 year old me thought the world was a pretty shitty place then, and I guess in that aspect; nothing has changed.
As life is, that place became home soon enough, so I wonder after I move from the reincarnation of hell that I live in now, will I also remember it as home or has my readiness to call every new place home, disappeared?