I just sneezed all over my keyboard and there are tears from my itchy eyes running down my cheeks. Please someone put me our of my misery. I've been feeling so dreadfully boring lately and I fear that it might be evidence that I'm actually growing up? Which is terrifying because 20 feels so old and I already act like an old lady sometimes, so basically I'm doomed.
Spring always reminds me of days spent with the windows open at the farm house. Hard wood floors and the smell of my mom making coffee in the morning. The sound of little paws tapping on the kitchen's linoleum floor. The fields were a shade of green that could never be recreated and snuck into a crayon box. I would climb the Bristlecone Pine and read out loud. Once a bug bit my thigh while I was perched on a branch and I had an itchy welt for a month. I had a tree swing that I would swing on for hours, the seat too big for my bottom. I wrapped my tiny hands so tightly around the ropes, tiny calluses sprouting up on my palms rubbed raw and pink by the time I came inside for dinner. I had picnics with my brothers in the middle of the fields and when two kittens died we buried them next to the wagon wheel. I marked their graves with two conch shells that I painted with nail polish.
My old bedroom was big with three huge windows that produced the most beautiful natural sunlight imaginable. I would wake up feeling like a princess dripping in sun. I was once kissed in my driveway by a boy who told me "you are beautiful at all times," as he wrapped his scarf around my nose. Such a large part of my life was spent surrounded by those four walls and now all that's left is a cement foundation, and two conch shells.