ben folds - golden slumbers
i watch everwood on monday nights, but this time on a couch and not laying on the floor near my dad, not on that green carpet so dirty from spilled milk and frozen dinners and bowls of easy-mac, and not with my head on that old ratty abc comforter that we still have two of but not a bunk bed anymore, just big-boy trundles and mikey sleeps in my bed because i'm not there to say he can't, and he's in high school now, making jokes about my teachers because they're his teachers now but i'm not there to laugh or drive him to school. i wonder what they do now on monday nights. homework maybe. i wonder who sits in the bad corrner seat that no one likes because the other chairs block you in, and who leaves there stuff all over the floor so people trip on it at night. and i wonder who's finishing the cans of broccoli soup that i only bought to remind me of coco's with my dad, and i had broccoli soup for dinner tonight because i wished i was there now and i wonder if it'll all be the same when i get back, if they'll still love me like they did before and if my jokes will still be funny, and if it'll be weird because they think i think i'm better than them, and i'm just trying to feel better than i do now but i can't tell them this is how i feel, i can't tell them anything because when i open my mouth tears come instead of words, and i can't watch tv here because it isn't the same without sitting in the dark with me. i miss philip's old abc blankets, i miss being sick on the couch and throwing my stuff down at the end of the day, making sandwiches with my mom and watching soap operas with her while we made crumbs and afternoon turned into evening. i miss her telling me to go to bed, and i even miss those sunday lunches made of sausage and steak that i'd always ruin with my cheese sandwiches and dead-cow remarks. i miss that andy's just like me, and i wonder who he'll be just like when i get back. i hope me still because i need someone to remind me how, and i don't want to come back till i remember enough to put up a decent act and make them not miss me as much as i miss them. i never ate nutella at home or finished boxes of wheat thins by myself, and i never appreciated what i had because there was never any risk that i wouldn't have it anymore. i don't know if home is the place where i watch tv or the place i wish i could.