I am here. I am here. I am here.
I am home.
When I flew back to Denver last weekend, I saw the lights of the city from above and the hazy mountains behind it, and I remember the deepest part of my soul whispering Home. Home. Home. And I was sad to leave Minneapolis. I feel like just when I get used to something, it is ripped away from me. I got used to Denver in the fall, and my routine here, and suddenly I had to go home for a month and a half. I got used to life there, and I had to come back here for school. It’s difficult adjusting over and over again. And I don’t know if it will get any easier, but part of me hopes it doesn’t. I like being attached to places and people, even though it makes for a fragile heart. It feels like my heart is sick, sometimes. How does one treat a sick heart?