i realized your floor was home

text and photography: katie beth

Saturday. Up at one am, slipping back into yesterday's jeans and shirt, loose from the day before. The dark and unfamiliar hallway, the creaking of the small warm house. We set the bacon crackling and waited for the other girls to get up. Eggs into the bacon grease and orange juice to use up.

That morning emotion took the form of taut strings as I felt my mind wrap around each companion, guiding them through the movements of gathering and moving sleep into the car.

Then a stretch of hours alone, listening to music and keeping each other awake. A small coffee burned through me but kept me awake as the states rolled by in the dark.

The sun came up slowly and Molly roused herself to drive. After a moment of confusion on a one way street, Katie and I collapsed into the coats, blankets, towels and soft of the back seats and everything went numb.

I never came back that day. I couldn't follow the joyful ramblings of their conversation. I couldn't hear or feel what they were saying...but then the familiar curves and rise of Scenic Highway appeared followed by the college driveways. We dropped everyone off and fell back down off the mountain onto Katie's floor.

And I have missed these days ever since.