subject line: five exits.

manchester, connecticut

Five exits separated me from you four years ago. Five exits away was my escape. My new adventure. My new school and new part-time home. Exit 63, I would pull on to the highway thinking I could do better. 64, soon I would feel independent again. Exit 65, 66, I would be fine, I would make new friends. I could do this. 67, I shouldn’t feel guilty, it wasn’t my plan to leave you behind. Exit 68, I pull off the highway, driving straight into a new start. I just needed a break.

I wanted a fresh, new and exciting change. I never wanted a flipped, upside-down and broken beyond repair change.

Now, I am heading home from the no longer new, but now familiar, home-away-from home. I am driving back towards you past the same five exits I once used as runway to escape. Exit 68, I pull onto the highway nervous to return to you no longer there. 67, 66, I am not returning with any new friends or adventures that as much as you. Exit 65, I can’t do this. I can’t be here. I do not know this version of home. 64, where else can I go? Exit 63, I pull off the highway to the town I call home but everything seems unfamiliar.

Five exits once separated me from you. Five exits once allowed me to forget you. Five exits now brought me back. Five exits and you aren’t here waiting. Now I wish I could run to you. I would run 500 exits if it meant you would be there again.