Fragments of my Life

Taking countless pictures of myself while a bee flies in and out the window of this red pickup truck and The Eagles sing to me softly. It's a perfect seventy degrees darling but I'm freezing because I'm starting to forget what home smells like and that terrifies me.

Bike riding through Wal Mart parking lots and over bumpy sidewalks while dogs bark and all that sunshine hides behind some big ass cloud the second I start pedalling. Freezing in a floral print shirt and sweat pants but I won't stop because if I do I'll feel that homesickness wash over me again and I don't know how much of that I can take.

Strange how all those things I took for granted are the ones that dance in my sleepless memory. Driving darkened streets in a Geo with a beautiful black haired girl in oversized sunglasses and jeans her mother hemmed. Lovely bohemian boys in the hallway, country music mix CD's, photography teacher who's seen me cry, familiar faces around a circular table starving for conversation and tater tots, Abercrombie wearing dad who loves too deeply, hippie throwback mother who inspires, soft spoken sister with my eyes, wild blonde brother who aches to be loved, short southern grandma who never wears shoes, gorgeous step sister who can't be tamed, awkward step dad who takes hours to cook, bad smelling puppy i barely know. These are the pretty fragments of my life. These are the things i want to touch again.