I'm going home next weekend. My mom says she needs to talk to me, and it has to be face to face. I'm ready to go home. I going to drive home, 440 miles. I need that drive. I love the drive.
I may stop in Columbia on my way back. It's slightly out of my way, but I'd like to go visit my old college roommate if he's around. I miss it a lot sometimes. To me, Columbia, Missouri is about as close to perfect as a place can get. I know it's just all the memories, but the greatest years of my life were spent in that town. I know that I often dreamed of getting away, of coming up here to Chicago. But now, my secret dream, my dream that I indulge myself in a lot more than I should, is to go back. People always tell me that grown-up life there is completely different than college life there. I'm sure it is. So I know I won't go. I want, I think, to remember it the way I left it. Almost perfect.
It's just the time of year. Last week would have been the first week of school. The yearly rejuvenation. The excitement. That stage of my life is over. But as I transition further out of it, I miss it more and more.
