Had I not already looked at the weather forecast for the next several days, I could easily be convinced Spring has arrived. I'm sitting by a terribly dirty, neglected window. A faint "Merry Chris....." is scrawled on the pane, meaning it hasn't been washed in several months. Thankfully, the glass scum doesn't deter sunbeams; one is dancing across my eyelashes as I squint, basking in the sunlight and my sister's presence.
Chrislyn says my eyes look crazy today, like two orange targets outlined with green. I gave her a look and she convinced me it was a good kind of crazy.
I love it when people ask if we're related. They usually say "oh, that Chrislyn - she is so amazing." ...to which I respond "I know; I think she's pretty incredible."
This is a confusing place. Some call me Chrislyn, some welcome me "home" while others wonder what brought me here for the weekend. The longer I stay away from these old stomping grounds, the less of an ache resides every time I walk away and say goodbye-until-next-time.
If home is where the heart is, then I'm pretty sure my home is elsewhere.