(no subject)
So we all came home to each other, to kisses and kittens and whisky and piles of people on front porches. When I ask my friends if I have changed they say you are more this or more that, or atleast they never say I am less. My heart is getting bigger, my teeth and skin getting stronger, my laugh is louder. I know what my face looks like and I don't dress up anymore. I said to Ryan that here I want to be nothing, I want to be oatmeal, and he said that is the best thing you have ever said. I wear my mother's brown sweaters and pants. On Saturday Hannah and Ryan are coming to visit. They will get to crane their necks and see everything that has built me up, made me more of whatever is in me. For two days we will rejoice and at night we will sleep the way we used to sleep--feeling the warmth from each others' skin, Ryan will tell me I smell like black currents and I will say what are those? You smell like milk, you smell like me.