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Saturday

I’m sitting in BWI waiting for Esther to pick me up. I’ve been up since five this morning. Puttering around the apartment, getting everything ready for the cat sitter (and myself when I return from this trip).

The Lyft picked me up at six forty-five. I got to the airport about thirty minutes later. Thank God I didn’t check a bag because the wait for TSA was fifty-two minutes and the line for bag drop was long.

By the time I got near the front of the line, my departure gate was moved to another terminal. I rushed through security and hopped on the tram to the right terminal. By the time I arrived at my gate, boarding was getting ready to start.

I boarded the plane, listened to a fifty-six minute long album, and took a nap before the plane took off. The flight itself was fine. Uneventful—exactly what you as of a flight. I sat next to a man and his teenage son. They watched some Harry Potter movie. I read for the better part of the trip.

Sunday

The wedding was today. It was beautiful. It was… a lot. My social battery was depleted six hours in; I left four hours early. I’m happy I went. I’m happy for my friend—the bride. I love her so much.

The first time we met was a few months before my family and I moved to Maryland; I shadowed her for a day. When we moved and I started eighth grade at that school, I clung to her. She was gracious enough to take me in.

When I had to go to the hospital that year, she sat with me, waited with my parents while I was in surgery, and welcomed me home when I was discharged.

We were attached at the hip in high school and started college together. Though we grew and drifted apart over the years, I’ve always known her to be in my corner and I, hers. Making the trip back home for her wedding was a no-brainer.

Had me from a year ago known that she’d run into so many people from the darkest time in her life in one summer, she’d be petrified. But I’m glad I got to see them, and they got to see me—secure and sure of myself. It always bothered me that their last encounter with me was one where I was unstable and walking around with an undiagnosed mood disorder. it felt good to correct the narrative and allow them to see a healthy, happy version of me.

I’m proud of who I’ve become. I think I’m done grieving the girl I once was because she’d be proud of me, too.

Monday

I went to the Hirshhorn with Esther and Lici today. The last time I went to an art museum was two years ago. Anyways, we went to the Hirshhorn today. It was nice—I don’t have all that much to say. I miss home. Every time I come out here, I’m struck by how much I miss it. I miss taking the metro. I miss free museums. I miss sitting in silence with my sisters then suddenly filling the room with laughter when one of stumbles upon a funny Tiktok. I miss hanging out in Cass’s basement. I miss dressing up for church. I miss church. I am so tired of being alone in Dallas; I’m so tired of being lonely. I miss my people. My home. My community.

Tuesday

Lici, Esther, and i went to Georgetown today. I hadn’t been down there since before I moved. In fact—I think the last time I was down there was for my twenty-third birthday shoot with Solomon.

I’m not sure what I’m going to do for my twenty-seventh birthday. Karee’s gone. I was thinking a photoshoot would be fun. I started looking up inspo pics a few weeks ago. I used to hate my birthday, but I’ve grown to love it with each passing year. Time is so fragile; to age is a blessing.

Wednesday

I’m flying back to Dallas as I write this. I talked to Max today; his birthday is this weekend. After everything that happened with Paige two years ago, I’ve gotten a lot better at remembering friends’ birthdays—at least I’ve tried to.

I don’t think about her often. Paige, I mean. When I do, a pang of guilt washes over me. It’s strange; I don’t feel guilty about losing her, I feel guilty about being relieved by the dissolution of that friendship. I don’t know. That friendship was exhausting and it took a lot off my shoulders when she said she was no longer interested in being friends.

I was, admittedly, too happy to be the villain in her version of reality. I knew she wanted me to beg for forgiveness, tell her I’d be a better friend if she gave me the chance. I did neither of those things.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve become less keen on convincing people to stick around. Well, most people. You would think nine months of radio silence would signal that he doesn’t care to be in my life. But we’ve gone much longer without speaking, and he’s always been so happy to hear from me and I, him.

The last time we got back in touch after two years of not speaking, he kept telling me how glad he was to hear from me. The smile on his face when I answered that FaceTime is etched in my memory and heart; it’s why I can’t let him go.

The sky looks beautiful right now. The sun must be getting ready to set because the tops of the clouds are tinged with shades of orange and yellow. By the time I land in Dallas, it’ll be close to ten o’clock. The sun will be long gone, the waning moon will be sitting high in the sky, and the stars will be nearly invisible—drowned out by the bright city lights.

I miss being able to see the stars. It’s one of my favorite things about visiting mom and dad in Georgia. I have written many a poem about gazing up at those night skies.

There’s something so significant in feeling completely and utterly insignificant underneath our galaxy’s celestial bodies. A reminder that I am just one of eight billion souls spiraling on a tiny blue dot in our universe. That whatever hardship I may be facing can’t be too big, for I am so very small in the grand scheme of things.