Even though my house is five blocks away from the tracks, the train whistle echoes in my room. There's not a lot between here and there to block the sound; even the low rumbling of the train travels across town to vibrate my window screen.
I love home, so why do I just want to crawl out of my window and run to catch that train? I shocked Grandpa the other night by saying I'd go back to Rome in a heartbeat. I'd be a damn fool to not want to go back, even after listing all the good potential this summer holds. [Why do I feel the need to add a disclaimer here? (I don't hate America.) Why can't I just say America annoys me sometimes, I'd rather live in a different country for a little while, and leave it at that?]
Maybe because my friends are all traveling to exotic places right now. Literally, right now. I'm throwing myself into arts and crafts projects that make Martha Stewart look like a hot mess, but mixed media Mod Podge can't compete with skipping the country. Outrageous singing in the car, Dead Sea mineral face masks, Tommy Boy, and Bailey's clothes/shoes don't even do the trick. I'm going to have to get serious here: we're talking blood drives, weddings and probably another vegetarian phase.
Rachel Dear We love you here. On a clear day you can see forever.
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