(home)sick

I was crying in a public restroom because I miss sitting at my mother’s kitchen table.  But really it was not about what I missed but what I could someday miss.  Love is a hard thing.  Like truth and growing up and learning to let go after you fell in love with the way your knuckles turned red from gripping too tightly.  And I could have cried forever because nothing is forever.  And I thought about how being alone is easier because when you have no one you have no one to lose.  I get homesick when I’m happy because at least at home I know what I have and what I have to lose.