It's raining, and the rain always seems to breed nostalgia. (I might have stolen that sentiment from a Pablo Neruda poem but I'm too lazy to check. Either way, it feels true.)
I'm thinking about all the things I miss.
I miss my old therapist. The last therapist I had, the best one. I felt comfortable with her, and I told her things I've never told anyone. If I had been able to have more sessions with her, I probably would have told her a lot more. In my last session when she told me she couldn't see me anymore, I cried. It still makes me feel like crying.
I miss my old mother. The one who always had her nose in a book, who laughed a lot, who loved to go walking at the beach or the park with me. She's now a shell of her former self. It's like watching someone vanish in slow motion.
I miss having a home. I used to have a home, in Connecticut. Now I've been living in Florida for ten years in two different cities, and neither feels like home. I don't even think I want them to. I'm just...here.
I miss my childhood, for lots of reasons, and I miss my 20s. I wish I had tried more things in my 20s: died my hair a crazy color, went out and tried things that I was scared of or that I feared I'd be judged for. Now I'm in my 30s and I feel like I missed the chance to be experimental and carefree and get away with it.
I miss my hope that one day things will be better. That I can still accomplish my dreams and have a comfortable life.
And now I'm wondering which of the things that I have now will be the ones I'll miss in the future.