I’m going home.

Two week’s tomorrow, my friend is getting married. So less than two week’s tomorrow, I’m going home. And I am craving the moment, I step off the airplane, and into my mother’s arms – my father’s arms – my cousin’s arms – because I know they will be there waiting for me. And I am thinking of the second, when I can lie down on the living room floor of my bestfriends’ home, and I can tell them over and over again, how much I’ve missed them.

Because it’s been a long time, since I’ve seen the people who know all my secrets. And it’s hard to thank them from a distance, for getting me through all that they have. Because it’s hard for them to see from a distance, all that they’ve done.

And it will probably be weird, because home never looks the same when it’s been almost a year since you’ve been there. And home will never look the same, when you’ve begun to recognize it less as a building and more as a place within you. But there are people I love, that have made up what home means to me, and in less than two weeks, I will get to hold onto so many of them, once again.

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