Moving on

I came home to my mothers house the day before last, after spending a little over a week at my apartment with my friend.

It didn't feel very welcoming.

It's a strange feeling, kind of like being out of place. A feeling of not quite belonging. I don't think I belong here anymore. Which is a little sad.

But maybe it's a good thing too. Maybe it means I'm finally ready to go out into the big bad world, and actually face it without crying for my mothers arms and my fathers protection.

I'm not sure I am quite ready though. I'm certainly readier than I was last year, but I don't think I've gotten to the point where I can claim that I'm ready for independence yet. I'm still very afraid, and I still need someone to hold my hand.

Maybe I've just changed the hands that I'm holding.

I have a cousin who inspires me to believe that I can be great, a friend who lets me hold her hand, and another who tells me what I need to hear when I need to hear it.

So powers that used to belong to my parents, belong to those three friends now.

And I'm glad because I love them. But I'm sad because I miss my parents. Sometimes I miss them when they're right there in front of me. They're starting to feel so distant and I think that the only cure is to leave.

I don't know. I hope I will someday. In the meantime I have my friends, my books and my faith. And Bob, no one must ever forget Bob.