On Not Going To There
And then I realized that what I was imagining going back to was our apartment a year ago, with a Christmas tree in the corner decorated with the ornaments I bought at Pearl River Mart and the ones from William’s grandmother. I remembered how happy I’d been to look in the window and see those lights every time I came home. I could almost smell the old fuggy smell of our apartment, pot and incense and pine needles and cooking.
I wanted to go there so badly. I wanted to run there. But you can’t go back to a place that no longer exists.
Revisiting the archives of Heartbreak Soup. I haven’t read a blog so text heavy in years. The nostalgia is slaying me.
