fading but, you can still see what was written on my hand

I don’t remember a time when it was so comfortable beeing home, while on semesterbreak. the house is so quiet and if you look closely you can see cracks that time made. you remember when you drove down the staircases with your bobbycar, giving babysitters heartattacks. or falling asleep beneath the bookshelf on the matress that your parents put up for you.

the fireplace is light up and outside there is snow and inside there is warmth and a bit of smoke, beause the chimeny is a bit old too. and you listen to the crackles and feel the warmth and you feel like a butterfly in a cocoon.

I met my friends who I missed so dearly, because we all live in different places or about to be in new ones or coming back again or still stick to the same walls we are used to. but we met where we grew up and play the same games or new ones. we sit on the same sofas and tell new stories, sometimes with new people. and sometimes old reappear. but always smiling at the memories we made along the way. till now.

and we go the the same tradtional things. dressed up and with little things to give away, because it’s fun to slip into other characters for a night. see from the outside how people come out of their shells. at least for a little while. and normally when it is usually time to got home, a spontanous spark lights up and you stay till morning turns the night around. and you share smiles and stories with people. you learn about people, about things you have forgotten. but others remember and sometimes you remember something about them they have forgotten. give and get.

if you wonder what was on my hand… an owl and a reminder to write my friend I a letter ♥


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