Sunday, July 10, 2011

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

No comments:

Post a Comment