Thursday, November 29, 2012
When it's cold, and everything hurts, and especially with the virus, I wished I could just beam home.
I miss my family so much- most days it's just a dull ache, but when I'm ill and hurting it's an open wound throbbing with the lack of arms to offer shelter.
Yes, my very much caring and loving boyfriend tries to fill the gap, but there are certain things, a certain sense of safety and security, that only family can offer.
He can't really cook, either.
I miss my Gran's special chicken soup (with browned semolina and super finely julienned veggies in it) that always makes me feel better.
I miss Mom sitting next to me on the bed or couch, vegetating with me while Face Off or my latest favorite TV series is playing on the screen, and gradually turning away from watching and just falling into chatting (I always need some time, even among my family, to drop the armor and start opening up).
I miss my brothers starting rousing games of nerf basketball (I have a nerf basketball set mounted to my room's door), where none of us move from the bed and it ends with us just piling on top of each other and savoring the closeness.
I miss my Dad coming home from work, putting on his sweats and starting to work on his latest project. I miss hearing him trying to talk less scientist and more English with the only non-scientist in the family (me). I miss his eyes lighting up when I "get it". I miss helping him soldering, programming, or building things.
I miss my Grandpa. He's dead now, but he was the one who taught me to play chess and told me that most conversations are nothing but a big chess match when I came home in tears from being bullied at one of the classes I had to take at the local college. He was never the warmest person (which is strange since the rest of my family is a giant heatball), but, in his own, rational, mathematically brilliant mind, I know he was at least if not proud of me then respecting my choices in the end. He taught me chess, and he taught me to love and excel at maths and not to be ashamed of it even though, as a girl, the world thinks I should be.
I miss our house. I miss the sounds of the ocean and the Intracoastal. I miss the smell of warm, humid, salty, tangy air. I miss the cries of the birds and the humming of the bees our neighbors keep. I even miss the pretentiousness of the neighborhood (didn't used to be, my great-grandparents bought the property when Florida was still a wasteland attracting snowbirds and nothing else).
These are the memories I hold on to, when everything seems like it's darker than what I can endure. These are the things that pull me up and pull me through.
These, and that I don't want to disappoint any of these amazing, warm people, my family, when I come home again. Giving up is pretty much the only thing that would, so it's the one thing I can never ever do.