Siena is a beautiful place, but it’s not home…
Lately, I’ve been experiencing some saddness. In planning weekend excursions and spring break travelling from one end of Italy to the next, I’ve let myself get stressed out. And it is in this vulnerable state when I miss my family and friends the most…
I miss the place where people know me.
I don’t have a favorite place to go here, or a favorite thing to do. I don’t have anything to call my own other than the bed I sleep in at night and even that doesn’t belong to me. Thank you James Fauvell for sending a HUG vicariously through a letter to my good friend Eve, who’s doing the program with me. When Eve hugged me, tears poored from eyes…
I miss the place where people love me.
There’s no neighbors, no WE NEVER CLOSE, no Spot coffee, no Amanda lovin’, no Cabin Cafe, no JP Bullfeathers, no Jack Astor’s. There’s no Tremont, no Hoyt, no North Forest, no Bird Ave. There’s no purple home, no Aunt Darcy’s and no dirty apartment that I can mess up without worry. There’s no Dad to help me when I’m helpless, no Mom to toughen me up, no Aunt D’Arcy to make me feel spoiled, and no Christopher to hold my hand.There’s no Delaware Park to collect and reground myself. There’s no place to be alone, but feel like you belong. There’s no TAB to be my second home. There’s no Dad to help me when I’m helpless, no Mom to toughen me up, no Aunt D’Arcy to make me feel spoiled, and no Christopher to hold my hand…
I miss the place where everybody knows my name.
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