Sometimes I wonder if certain places will retain their homey feel forever, regardless of how long ago you left them behind. When I think about places like Virginia, Oregon, and even Utah, it's hard to say that they feel like anything but a little piece of home.
A few days ago I was thinking about my house in Virginia and imagining who must be living there now. I was trying to imagine who inherited my bedroom, what color (if any) it has been painted, who is enjoying my newly renovated bathroom, if the kids like running and sliding in socks on the wood floors as much as I did, etc. I played out the whole scene in my mind, when a sudden flash came to my memory. In my closet there was a small panel of the side wall that could be removed, revealing the studs and space between walls. In that small opening, there happened to be a ledge just beneath it where I once placed a letter I wrote to myself several years ago. I'm sure it must have contained the deepest, darkest secrets of my 15 or 16 year old self. The things you think of months after moving out... So more than wondering if the wood floors are still as slippery, I can't help but imagine who must have discovered my letter.
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