the feeling

it was a lovely early-spring day

sunny, clear.

the fields of wheat swayed in approval.

there was nothing but the highway and me.

well..

there was the anxiety, the panic and the inherit feeling that something was horribly wrong.

and, at last, there was the feeling.

when i was younger, i used to attempt sleepovers.

all the time.

and, suddenly, i would be stricken with homesickness.

i would be literally ill.

many nights my parents would have to throw on layers of protection against the harsh evening winter winds

just to come get me

and there i would be.

sulking.

panicked.

and in need to go home.

not much has changed.

i sit here in this strangers house.

observing my room.

it's perfectly lovely.

but i want nothing more than to be at home.

if i pause to consider how my bed would cradle me

or how i would rest against my headboard for that perfect reading angle,

i will cry.

so i think of other things..

like slam poetry.

it's getting me by..so be it.