Feeling Nostalgic.

Today in one of my classes, we did a little 5 minute writing exercise where we had to let our minds wander to a happy place, and think about what we saw, felt, remembered, etc. All of the places I thought of were places specific to last year. I decided to write about a dirty old roof:

Billy's old apartment. We had so many wonderful times there. Lying on his make-shift couch, drinking coffee in tumblers and wine in mugs. Watching Disney movies despite all being in our twenties. Friends. True friends. The only ones that keep in touch.

The best part of this place was the roof. Dirty and covered in cigarette butts and frequented by pigeons, but small, cozy, and three storeys closer to the warmth of the sun.

I remember the smiles on our faces, the smells of my favorite restaurant just below, and the small bits of gravel that stuck on our elbows from lying there.

I don't know why this place means so much to me. There is just something about it, and the memories and people that go with it, that is so very wonderful.

I remember the last days of living in the last place I considered 'home'. We spent hours just lying on that rooftop. Reminiscing. Sad that it was almost over. In hindsight, those days were happy. Even though we were sad to have to leave, I have only the fondest memories.

I don't think I'll ever forget days on that roof. The ones I ever remembered in the first place, anyway. I may not have found another place to call home yet, but those memories have found a home in me.