a picture of my sister came fluttering out of a letter from my mother today; i am feeling so strongly, of late, the spiderweb threads that connect me to my family. it becomes strangely important that i remember details, call them to mind, hold them close and watch my history winding back through all the preceding generations.

and place. in my humanities class, we discussed the importance of place on mentality and writing, the idea of location and connotation influencing life. i miss the ocean, i miss the view from my bedroom window. i miss the precarious seat nestled in the oak tree. i want to return to our house pre-remodel, when it was too small for the five of us and we took turns at the sink in our only bathroom, shoving with our elbows. barrettes and scrunchies in the second drawer; mom's blowdryer in the third. my room covered in a clich� motif of stars and moons, swaths of fabric hung across the window over ugly blinds, my desk cluttered with papers and books because i did all my homework on the floor.

my journal from last june shows an entry freehanded after a breif flight to philadelphia. over several pages of consciousness-streaming, i ask myself if i will be able to take the city into myself, absorb its awkward curbs and slicing buildings.

i've found joy here, and challenge, and love. there are ways in which i don't want to go back home for the summer, parts of me that have taken root in this city and begun to grow. i call it home, but i'm yearning for the hardwood floors of the house i grew up in.