Homesick

I'm finally homesick. During the past nine months I have missed some things, but I have never felt like this. It began last night as I spoke with my mom. She had found some of my clothes in the basement and had washed them for me. I'm 5000 miles away and Mom is still willing to do my laundry. Then she told me that she had found a painting I had done when I was seven and hung it up. How could I not miss that? Dad was napping on the couch in the sunroom, fulfilling the ideal Saturday afternoon right. And the Kid was getting me my copy of Harry Potter. I wanted to be there.

Instead I was here, in Mina, in Delft, in Holland. I am doing my own laundry, lounging on other peoples couches, and buying my own books. I sleep in a twin bed with a flimsy mattress and sheets that may not ever have a thread count off 150. And my shower won't even stay on the wall.

I'm terribly cynical this morning.

I love it here, but I miss being there.