Something About Going Home

Little Hump Mountain, Tennessee. Photo by Mike Lento on Unsplash

I left home at seventeen. As I packed up my childhood room, a lump in my throat, I knew I would be back “home” in just four short years; after I finished my schooling. Four years turned into seven turned into eighteen. It’s been eighteen years since I’ve lived in Tennessee or since I’ve been around family and childhood friends. Time flies when you’re inventing yourself.