There are moments where I miss my hometown so much that my throat closes up and all I can manage are a few wheezes before falling into a fit of tears, wrapped up in my irrational worries that what if it doesn’t get easier? What if time doesn’t heal my open wounds?
I missed watching as the city moved from summer to autumn; from green to red, orange and yellow; from warm and humid to nights spent wearing sweaters and light scarves.
I miss the quiet mornings, the wave from kind neighbours you’ve known for years, and the memories created all over town. I miss the possibility of meeting up for coffee with friends I have had since grade school.
I miss my godson and that smile of his. Every day I think about how much of his life I am missing. I have missed and will miss the birth of three of my friends’ children in 2011-2012. I try not to think of how I will feel after my niece or nephew enters the world this March and I am 2,200 miles away.
Some days are easier than others. Today is not one of them.