The subject to the predicate.
So, here we are. On the cusp of Christmas, down in the final throes of my mad-rush to finish all our "pre-deployment" bullshit that hasn't come to be.
And all I can think about is someone, whom I long to see. And how I'm tired of the smell of this state.
I hope you all know how lucky you are, for there are some of us whom are dearly departed from you. You get to enjoy the pristine winters and crisp air of a Northeastern winter, while I wallow in the wet, thick humidity of the Mississippi river's cesspool. All I want is my mother's beef stew on bitter cold nights, and a warm white dog to clutch to my chest on those quiet nights. I miss seeing our Christmas tree, bedecked in archaic decorations and topped with an ornament that is specifically our own. I miss trips to King of Prussia and looking over the rolling hills of Whitpain. I miss taking walks in the snow, by myself or with friends. Late night runs to Wawa for a hoagie and Coca cola slurpee aren't far from my mind, either.
I miss driving in the snow all the way to Michael's for a Bacon-and-Cheese omelette by myself, and putting some words on paper. I guess it takes me back to a different time in my life.
I miss New Years, with everyone, and perpetually making an ass of myself. I miss gathering firewood in my arms, and labouring it over the fence and up to the porch, so that rex can lay upon the hearth and bask. I miss the glow, when warm orange waves ripple not but a foot from the brilliant luster of our Christmas tree, backlighting the walls in a kaleidoscope of colours that paw for attention.
I wanna go back. I wanna go back, but I dunno how I got off the track. I hope I'm welcome. =/
And all I can think about is someone, whom I long to see. And how I'm tired of the smell of this state.
I hope you all know how lucky you are, for there are some of us whom are dearly departed from you. You get to enjoy the pristine winters and crisp air of a Northeastern winter, while I wallow in the wet, thick humidity of the Mississippi river's cesspool. All I want is my mother's beef stew on bitter cold nights, and a warm white dog to clutch to my chest on those quiet nights. I miss seeing our Christmas tree, bedecked in archaic decorations and topped with an ornament that is specifically our own. I miss trips to King of Prussia and looking over the rolling hills of Whitpain. I miss taking walks in the snow, by myself or with friends. Late night runs to Wawa for a hoagie and Coca cola slurpee aren't far from my mind, either.
I miss driving in the snow all the way to Michael's for a Bacon-and-Cheese omelette by myself, and putting some words on paper. I guess it takes me back to a different time in my life.
I miss New Years, with everyone, and perpetually making an ass of myself. I miss gathering firewood in my arms, and labouring it over the fence and up to the porch, so that rex can lay upon the hearth and bask. I miss the glow, when warm orange waves ripple not but a foot from the brilliant luster of our Christmas tree, backlighting the walls in a kaleidoscope of colours that paw for attention.
I wanna go back. I wanna go back, but I dunno how I got off the track. I hope I'm welcome. =/