Rooted, I used to think.

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Sunday, Feb. 16, 2003 @ 11:27 pm
Thinking of Summer. Thinking of Friends.

I hear dinner party laugther from next door. Adults laughing. It reminds me of when my parents hosted the Gourmet Club back in the 80's and my sister and I would sit with our backs against the hallway door listening for coherent snippets of conversation.

I'm thinking about how happy I was falling asleep on that couch, surrounded with friends that I don't have to tiptoe around, friends that I feel equal with, friends who seem to understand me so well without having ever told them that much. It's common history that really bonds me to people.

I'm secretly glad underneath my grumblings of moving home at some point this summer, but I bet you knew that. I get to live within a half-hour walk from any party-worth house. I will finally have closure and distance between two people who mean (meant) a lot to me. It's not like I need privacy anymore. And I will be forced to compact all my accumulated junk to fit into one small closet and under one twin-sized bed.

I've been isolated far too long.


Afternoons around the Lake Circa August 2002

Roots | Shoots