The other day while shopping with my sister and mom, I ran into Sarah and Davis at the mall.
"We actually go to King's, right Sarah? Like, we go to class and we live there and our friends are real and not just in my head, right?"
"I hope so."
Being home is so beyond incredibly weird. When I got off the plane in Ottawa, I ducked into the washroom and stood in front of the mirror. I checked my hair and my makeup and looked at myself. Did I look older? Had I changed? I tried to find some concrete proof that I'd just spent five weeks living away from home for the first time. I was totally disappointed. But my sweater looked cute, so I got over it.
My mom disagreed. "You look different. Older." she told me when I came off the escalator.
The whole weekend has been one where everything feels exactly the same, but also totally foreign. I sit on the couch, I squabble with my sister, I clean the kitchen... but I don't know the jokes and there's no ranch dressing in the fridge anymore. On Friday night I sat down on the couch, my sister came up beside me and put her hands on her hips. "That's my spot! I've been sitting there." I laughed it off, but it felt weird. That's always been my spot. I missed that couch more than I missed my own bed.
Well, back to reality. I leave today at five and I haven't started the homework due... I hate essays...