I still love writing. It makes me feel closer to you and closer to myself. Like I never understood what I meant until I wrote it down or wrote it out and sent it to you. The truest form of communication when you're on the opposite side of the planet and it's my favorite.
I still love coffee. That sounds silly, but in finding simplicity because you're saving for flights around the world you come to enjoy little things. My little things happen to be a "soy flat white, extra caffiene." (Even though I miss pumpkin spice anything like crazy.)
I still love music. Even when I don't have anything new to spark my imagination, I can listen to your voices and all of a sudden I'm home, in bed, listening to my friends. You can pick me up when I'm running or stretching or sitting at the edge of my bed, wishing I could cry but I can't get the tears out. (My most common problem.)
But most of all, more than anything, more than any of these things added up and multiplied by infinity, I love my sister. What a gracious and beautiful being. Keeping calm and patient and loving. Laughing at me when I'm anything but funny and sitting with me when I can't think of what to do next. Mostly listening, and watching.
So much to be in love with.
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