I can’t stop listening to ‘Right Where You Left Me’ by Taylor Swift. This is par for the course at the onset of the holiday season—apropos for the nostalgia avalanche nestled between October and January. My mind swims with references to Novembers past as I wrestle my sweaters from the grips of a box in the back of my closet, remembering when my mom used to sit on the floor of my bedroom and carefully switch my summer clothes with my winter ones, the former occupying a clear bin that would slide under my bed. Everything fit so nicely back then. I was a fly on her wall. I trade memories of merry little Christmases, family blowups and turkey trot mishaps with my boyfriend while he grabs my hand under the covers. Covers we share, in a home we share. I wished away 16 with a vengeance and it is bitter sweet now, to think of sixteen. I always wished to be in love back then. God, I don’t even remember growing up. But I guess I have.
On my mind (MONDAY Nov. 6th)
On my mind (MONDAY Nov. 6th)
On my mind (MONDAY Nov. 6th)
I can’t stop listening to ‘Right Where You Left Me’ by Taylor Swift. This is par for the course at the onset of the holiday season—apropos for the nostalgia avalanche nestled between October and January. My mind swims with references to Novembers past as I wrestle my sweaters from the grips of a box in the back of my closet, remembering when my mom used to sit on the floor of my bedroom and carefully switch my summer clothes with my winter ones, the former occupying a clear bin that would slide under my bed. Everything fit so nicely back then. I was a fly on her wall. I trade memories of merry little Christmases, family blowups and turkey trot mishaps with my boyfriend while he grabs my hand under the covers. Covers we share, in a home we share. I wished away 16 with a vengeance and it is bitter sweet now, to think of sixteen. I always wished to be in love back then. God, I don’t even remember growing up. But I guess I have.