As I lay in my bed, trying to invest my last bit of energy into something creative, I can’t help but feel a sort of anxiety. The good kind. I can’t get around to falling asleep, as I want the feeling that I have to last a bit longer.
In the midst of the hectic life I seem to be having lately, I took the time to get back in touch with an old love of mine. As I was getting ready, it was almost as if I could sense the scent of it. Oh, how I’ve missed you. It saddens me that I often don’t take the time to do the things I long so much to do, see the people I miss so much, say the things I want to say. It’s something I always encourage in others, but more often than not, giving advice is quite easier than following them yourself.
I knew it was going to be splendid. I reminisced of the last time we got together, of how I felt. But before it all sinked in, I found myself rushing through the door. I was late. Well, no surprise there. I’m (in)famous for my mishaps as far as being there on time. It doesn’t really matter if I’m going to the grocery store, a date or to class, I always find a way to leave a bit later that planned. Headphones on, worries off, it was going to be just you and me. Just like it used to be.
I walked. Faster. And then faster, until I found myself doing a weird speed walking thing. It didn’t matter. I was close. So close.
I was there. I made it. I’m here. I’ve missed you.
The crunch, the smell, the colors, the sounds.
I made it. Peace. Calm. Home.
The forest. Nature. I’m back.