Sitting alone, staring intently at a disturbingly clean countertop with a jet black cup of coffee, my mind races as my body waits. With no one to use as a distraction, my mind reaches for lost memories of my childhood. Images of family dinners at Thanksgiving and Christmas begin to flash across my eyes; everyone smiling and laughing, enjoying each other's company. I imagine my mother in the kitchen cooking her famous green bean casserole, while somehow trying to do her hair at the same time, and my brother trying to sneak cookie dough while I would be baking. I close my eyes and I can smell fresh baked cookies straight out of the oven and a wave of comfort washes over me.
I have always turned to thoughts of my earlier years in times of stress; the thought of a loving family that would do anything for one of its own, never judging and never turning a shoulder. It’s these thoughts that make the night time road easier to handle, the thoughts of starting something new and of my own. Sitting alone, still waiting for someone or maybe something, my stare shifts from the counter to my coffee and my mind continues to race.
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