I’m excited to go home
I miss home
I’m nervous that home isn’t going to feel like home anymore
Nervous that I’m too accustomed to this lifestyle I have created
But when I’m sad, I put on my mom’s shirts
Shirts I stole from her closet that she is not getting back
I feel safe in them
I remember that, even if home does not feel like home,
Home does not have to be a place
My mom is home
Home sickness runs through my veins, and some days it’s worse than others
Some days I am so happy to be independent
But other days I feel like a toddler who’s lost in target
I’m sad that I don’t get to see my mom for a majority of the year anymore
I’m sad that she is so far away
I’m jealous of people who live close and in the state
People who can go home on a weekend or any given break
While I sit in the corner and cry for my mom
Because she isn’t here to pick me up when I feel broken
When my heart shattered into pieces
I was the only one here to stitch it back up
And I’m not great at sewing
And I think that I’m doing just fine
But I know that Band-Aids work best when Mom puts them on my knees
she hands me a cup of water, and tells me to “hydrate please”
When she gives me the biggest hugs, and I hold her a little bit longer
I’m homesick
And I cannot wait for the plane to land
And to run into my mother’s arms once again.