Home Again

And just like that, here I am in Ripon, CA again. Swimming in my uncle's luxury pool and having my cousins do my eyeliner and introduce me to their attractive friends, who all wonder why I'm not Asian.

It's great to be home.

And yet I was crying into the pillows last night, hoping I wouldn't wake my bedmates. Why is that?

 Maybe this isn't my only home after all.

The Next 3 Days

I seem to be into movie titles lately. I'm losing my originality. Ick.

Anyways. The next 3 days are the ones leading up to that horrible moment when I'll say goodbye to everything that's familiar and close to me and depart into the great unknown with little to no hope of return. 

I wish I could say that's an exaggeration.

As the time gets wound tighter and tighter together, precious moments I have failed to grasp one last time are slipping between my fingertips one by one. Faces are trying to fade, and I'm trying to recall them to my memory before they're gone. Each time I see a place, or a person, I can't help but wonder if it's the last time. If I need to stand still a moment longer, etch every detail into my mind and savor the memories I have with this street corner, this building, this close friend. And each time, the helpless, frightened feeling in the pit of my soul grows heavier and heavier. 

People ask me if I'm ready to go, but I don't get why something like this could be getting easier as I get closer. 

It's just becoming more impossible. 

How am I supposed to do this? 

There's no way I can do this. 

Dear Mom,

May I just say, I fully under-appreciated your coolness.

Oh, sure, I didn't think you one of those embarrassing moms who says awkward stuff in front of my friends, or overbearing moms who locks their daughter in the house at the first sign of her having a social life. But seeing as this recent situation is entirely new, I had no idea how you'd react. I decided that anticipating a worst-case scenario reaction was most realistic because, well, better safe than sorry. 

Surprisingly though, you exceeded even my better expectations. 

Is that sad? I feel ashamed now for even having those expectations, but the honest truth is that I had no practical frame of reference off which to compare, so this was a new set of faces and voice tones to scrutinize for a hint of a reaction. But then, it wasn't. All the old ones were there, just in a new context. It was the greatest sigh of relief imaginable, and the best part was that I knew I could trust you. I know how burdening my mini crises can be, but you were completely at ease with just keeping it between us, which was possibly the thing that meant the most. 

I know you read this, too, so you'll excuse me if I don't want to seem entirely uncool and keep this relatively short. 

I love you, Mommy.

A Battle of Epic Proportions

My feelings towards this photo? Well. 

Let's just say, dear Coree, it was an honor to do pillow warfare with you.

The Turning Point

There's a strange feeling in the knowledge that one moment in your life 

has forever changed it.

The way you answer certain questions.

The way you look at certain things. Certain people.

The way you feel about something you were so sure you'd been set in stone about.

You can't take the moment back. 

You can't even change it.

You can't alter it, so that it fits snugly on the mannequin of expectations you had so carefully designed for it. 

It's already happened, and you're still not even sure if it was real.

And the funny thing is, you'd always laughed and waited for the day when you could confidently announce that the moment wasn't all it was cracked up to be. But then it happened. 

And there's nothing to announce.

In fact, every time you try and shrug it off, as you know you're supposed to, the tiny foothold it has in your memory replays itself, and something inside you does a wobbly somersault of.....of.....

What? 

A blender full of loud and overpowering emotions that war against each other and threaten to overwhelm your entire being as they spin and collide against each other. 

That's what.

What are you supposed to do with that? 

Dear One-Man Choir,

Never stop marching to the beat of your own drum.

It's good for the world to have a little more music in it every now and then. Thanks for bringing your own. You teach others, like me, to step out and even contribute their own tune to the symphony. I wish everyone could have a bit of you in them. 

So here's God's gift to you. 

It's called Today.

Use it well. 

Dear Never-Ending Math Equation,

Your answer is beginning to reveal itself, so at the very least, it's possible that you are solvable.

Though I must say, I didn't see that twist in the equation coming.

You've now provided me with a whole new set of algorithms to complete. 

Sincerely,

Newly Stumped