i cried this morning. the holidays along with the resurfacing of pictures from my childhood feel like rocks in my belly and make me nauseous when i move. i can’t stop thinking about my side yard with the forsythias and tomato plants and rose bushes. i cant stop thinking about door knobs and the wood on stairs and the imperfections of glass windows. i wish i remembered what it felt like to fly on our tire swing, or climb our japanese maple, or run around our yard with my basset hound. i miss my stuffed animals and the couch in the sun room and the sound of fish tanks when you’re falling asleep.