I’m back home after a great weekend with family in New Jersey. I was with my three aunts, my uncle and three cousins. I got to visit one of my cousins in college, walk around the outlets in Atlantic City, and fight with the youngest one (not really fighting, just goofing around), proving that I’m stronger than him. The weekend went by too fast, I can’t believe I’m back home already, it feels like we were there for a day.
When I got home, my mother asked me where I slept and I told her I slept in the same bed I slept in four years ago when we were there. I thought sleeping there again would feel weird and bring back bad memories, but it didn’t, they were actually good memories. It felt good to be able to go back having improved so much.
When we got there, my aunt told me I still had some stuff we left there when we left for my surgery and of course I was exited to see what they were. It was a bag with two binders from the rehab center, pictures, posters, photos and gifts. I did not remember I had any of these but I made room in my suitcase to bring them home with me.
I found some more pieces of what I went through and what my family and friends went through. I love that I keep finding memories, not sad memories but memories that keep giving me strength, remind me of what I’ve been through and showing me who was there with me.