I've said it before and quite honestly, I'll say it ten thousand times before death becomes me, Tennessee lives in my bones. All in all, I'm just an ol' girl from a hollow. I try to function properly away from the mountains and away from the water, but I'm failing miserably. I don't belong here.
I'm supposed to be somewhere else. Somewhere not here - somewhere tucked away in the middle of nowhere.
I envy the people who up and move.
Just down right jealous. I want my skin to fall off in southern dirt - and my bones to be eternally red from the clay they absorb. When I'm sad, I want to be sad with cicadas and katydids and tall, flaky cedars.
It doesn't matter.
I'm still swaying from spending a week on the lake. It was fabulous.
I'm jealous of the week I just had. I want to go back to there. I want to do my birthday all over and get just as drunk. I want to get mad at my brother, throw down my biscuits and gravy and yell at him all over again because hugging after a fight like that is so sweet. This past week rocked my face off my skull. I miss it already, like I miss a lover who just moved away to bigger and better and prettier.
Vacations cause voids. I'm going to say vacations are void-ish.
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