I Want To Go Home

I want to go home, but I don't know to which home.

I have a home in the States, with my parents, sister, dog and cat. And I have a home with my boyfriend, whether he's in Wellington, Auckland, or on the moon.

I don't know which home I want, because wherever I am, there I'm not.

While I don't think I'll ever be too old to crawl in my mother's lap and demand a hug, I want to crawl into my boyfriend's arms and have him banish my sadness.

I miss the insane cat and my stuffed animals. I miss my friends at home. I miss my doctors, and the normality of a system that I understand. I miss...my life.

I like it here; I'm not miserable being here. It's just that my ability to self-sustain is cracking, a little.

I want my Max. I want my Mommy.
I can't have either right now, and it sucks.

WG

Little Lost Kitty

To the friends who thought I would make a good military wife: we were all wrong. I am struggling to maintain a happy (or at least pleasant) demeanor now that my boyfriend is on his way across the world. It's not that our situation is particularly harrowing; I will see him again in four weeks. But out of seven months, I had him for nine wonderful days.

I always wondered what I would feel when I found someone to love. Well, driving home from the airport Wednesday night, I found out. I can drive home on autopilot, blind from tears, and not have a wreck.

I sent him home with a smile and a wave.
WolfGrrl