jersey memories.

have i really been away from the home i grew up in for this long? ten years. really? ten years have gone by. i was in school for four of those years. and it has already been six years of living independantly. on my own. alone.


the memories always flood back. i still leave in the middle of the night and come home late, creeping up the stairs. i know exactly where to step in order to avoid the ancient creak from beneath my bare feet.


my room has changed. the house is in the middle of "renovation". it stopped midway because my mother ran out of money to fund it. my old room is still painted sky blue. there are still two large closets, packed with mementos, photographs, journals, stories. my mother packed it all away for safekeeping. justincase i decide i need all of this back.


my mother only prepares a homecooked meal for my expected arrival. it's foreign to me, she never used to cook. but now when i come home once in awhile, she actually does in fact, cook.


there's a guest bedroom with old fireorange carpet and peeling, flowered wallpaper. it smells old, and it is always rather freezing because of its location just above the garage.


the house has been painted a cheerful yellow with light blue shutters.

i hate it.



i love my old home.


it's strange to see how much we have evolved in ten years.   It's even stranger to think home has gone from my place to live to my place to visit. From a movie to a photograph that's frayed around the edges.

And do you remember when we used to sing our every care and worry into the world?



remember how well we blended in the light of the stage?



well. i do.