I felt so homesick last week.

Not in a missing-family-and-friends kind of way, although I do miss them always; not for the place I call my family home now; not for the sea or for the hills; but for where I grew up.

Two of my friends visited my hometown on the same day, coincidentally, and it churned up a lot of feelings in me. I haven’t felt like that for a long time, reminding myself that it’s a different place now, and the house I grew up in is just a building. But I wanted to be there, in my old home, looking out at the river. I wanted all the nostalgic feelings. But all I felt was quiet and numb.

I looked at this photo of Kingswear that I took – the one where it looks like an island.

The mist wrapped around like a blanket. Safe, hidden, separate.

Those roads I walked on countless days still kept their wonder somehow – like they changed all the time. They always felt so new and so familiar.

So many days. More memories than I can even remember.