Entry 5

January 27th 

I’ve been lonely in dozens of different cities, but tonight feels different. The dogs howl their goodnight song, the crickets chirp, and the distant sound of conversation and upbeat music sets the scene in the little town of Mendes, Brazil. The rough shingles of the roof cut into my legs unpleasantly, but I don’t move a muscle. I exhale in slow motion, careful not to disturb the peace, and a train of tears shakes free from my eyes, silently drawing a map into the hem of my tank top. I watch two young parents hold their daughter by both hands, swinging her with each step as they make their way home. Home. Sitting on the roof of my temporary house, it hits me for the first time that I can’t remember the last time I felt that word or if I’ve even felt it at all. I draw my knees up to my chin and look skyward. I can barely remember what it felt like to be held in my parents’ arms. Back then, all I dreamed of was this… the freedom of adulthood and an untethered life. At least I made that girl proud. I smile sadly to myself and trace a shooting star across the expansive black.