Home Is ...

So. Hi.

I'm leaving for the States in just two days. It's surreal, really, spending my last couple days in Denmark before we leave. Everything gets a certain nostalgia about it, when I know I'm leaving for three weeks. I start thinking about home. All these little things that I don't notice normally, suddenly become something that I'm oddly affectionate about.

H O M E   I S . . .

♥ The smell of the streets of Copenhagen.

♥ The way he looks at me, when he puts both of his hands on my cheeks, waits a couple seconds, always checking my reaction, and then kisses me.

♥ Feeling out of breath from laughing so much with my best friend.

♥ The way strangers greet each other on the subway: with a casual nod, a smile, a polite "hello", or an offer to sit down.

♥ Biking home barefooted in the warm summer evening.

♥ My father dancing for himself in the livingroom, wearing a sarcastic smile.

♥ Eating bananas with nutella in my room, while watching a movie on my computer.

♥ The way his mouth pulls a little bit to the side, when he's sad.

♥ Pulling on my leather jacket, and feeling the soft silk lining of the sleeves against my bare arms.

♥ The way the sky looks at 5 AM... all pink and blue and orange around the edges.

♥ Walking home late at night in high-heeled shoes, clutching an umbrella, and avoiding puddles.

♥ Lying in the sun in my garden, hardly able to keep my eyes open, knowing that I really should be doing something constructive, but never getting up to do it.

♥ Hearing the sound of an action movie playing in the livingroom above my room, and falling asleep to the oddly comforting noises of fake gunfire and acted shouting.

♥ Not being able to walk a single step with him, before one of us reaches for the other's hand.

♥ Sleeping until 1 PM at least, every day.

♥ Eating strawberries or raspberries with vanilla whipped cream.

♥ Throwing on my Vans and leather jacket, and rushing out the door to run for my bus, only to realize that I have forgotten my bus pas, and therefore having to run back again.

♥ Having to keep my voice down, and speak in hushed whispers, when he calls me in the middle of the night.

♥ Trying to figure out whether I should wear rubber boots or open sandals, a leather jacket or a T-shirt, shorts or jeans.

♥ The sound of jazz music, or my parents' favorite CD with latin music (which I hate) playing on the stereo.

♥ Dancing with him in the middle of the street, and seeing the way he smiles, when I laugh.

Thanks for listening,

I Am Roseberry