When it comes down to it...

... these are the people that matter the most. Happy new year mom, dad & baby brother.

2009, 2010.

2009 looked like:

Getting psyched up for my last semester of Sarah Lawrence, forgetting to eat one fateful morning before going to the gym and knocking a bunch of teeth out, learning how to deal with needles and novocaine and stitches and mostly learning about patience, meeting long time penpals turned best friends and so much more, graduating college, summertime and a full time job and learning things the hard way, flooded basements and ruined collections of books, a move across an ocean, new friends and adventures, and a lovely christmas back home.

I'm pretty sure 2009 was the worst and best year to date. Ups and downs and ups again. Onward into 2010.

Hopes:

More adventures, new countries, a master's earned, new and old friendships evolving, jobs gotten, a solid life starting.

e.e. cummings, pt. II.

How A Sunday Looks.

How Christmas Looks.

How Christmas Eve Looks.

i carry your heart with me

How A Snow Day Looks.

Home and the Other Home.

Going home means something else when you've been unreachable by anything but boat or plane for multiple months. There's always been traditions upon coming home from school that have mostly involved cooking and baking and fires and movies, but this time it means more. Schedules become necessary as you try to fit in all of the things you want to do that you miss, seeing each friend you've made promises to, having lunches with old professors and bosses. But really, it all comes together without a plan, without scheduling, and everyone appears around an impromptu meal that you cook with bottles of wine being passed around all night and stories being told.

Going Home.

Tomorrow will be my last real day in London before i head home for the first time in three months. This has been the longest expanse of time spent an airplane's ride away from home, which seems strange when i think about it for a bit. And it's especially new because it's the first time i've been coming back into my world after creating another little home in a foreign country. Sure there are bits of familiarity, a deer and rooster figurine that have made their way across an ocean, and friends who've ended up here as well, but nothing comes close to the feeling i'll get when i hear that click of the sunroom door, the sight of lily coming bounding in through the living room, my room with a big bed. I love you london, but man alive, i need to go home. America, i miss you.