I’m home for the weekend and even though I took nine years to pack last night, I forgot to  bring any sort of pajamas.

I was frantically searching the closet for something I might have left behind when I moved to Amherst.

I found a black trash bag full of clothes, except they weren’t my clothes. I opened the bag and I breathed in the scent and I felt happy and sad and safe and loved all at once. A whole bag full of his clothes that he couldn’t fit in his best friend’s tiny car as they set off across the country. Everything from shirts to hats to a (gigantic because his mother probably bought it for him) fleece pullover that I may or may not be snuggling at the moment…

someday this will be easier. Right? Right. Definitely.

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