Appalachia Year

I grew up in a big cozy house in the woods with five people and an unruly dachshund. There was no privacy, there were no closed doors, and near-constant clamor. It was noisy and normal and good.

While intense porch talks with Sjannie are invaluable, there is something to be said for just feeling like you're part of someone's comfortable backdrop. It was nice idly tapping away at a paper while Jason was studying for his candidacy exam or cooking. It was a strange comfort to watch, amused, as Nick set up the TV's picture in picture so that he could play Resident Evil on the tiny screen while I watched Stand By Me on the large screen.

I remember now, that feeling after you've split up with somebody, being tortured by not knowing what they're wearing or eating for breakfast or if they have to work that weekend. In the midst of creating this online record of my trivial bullshit, I didn't realize how much I'd hunger for other people's minutiae.