Pockets full of Cinnamon

Yesterday, I had just gotten done doing a super fun photoshoot with a friend, and we were heading out to lunch with a couple other friends. It was there, in the parking lot, with the sun flaring out above us, I felt a twist beneath my heart. And I knew: I will miss this.

I will miss discovering people as I take their pictures, the car rides where I hear their stories, knowing I'm now a little part of their lives. I will miss the color, the sunlight, the variety of life here. I will miss this sensation of being new, unknown. I will miss this little life I've carved out.

It's funny to know this, even as I'm hungering for home. It's odd, and yet heart warming, to know there is more than one place where I belong, where I am welcome.

In the moments when I stop and think, I will miss this, I make sure to take an extra breath in -- memories are like cinnamon, sharply sweet, and warm against the roof of your mouth. I make sure to savor them.

I'll be heading home in about a month...but I'm coming back with my pockets full of cinnamon.