Twenty four hours. A whole day. A long strech of highways…that’s how far away home is. I could spread my arms out, and it still would not exagerate how far it really does seem.

At night, I dream about it. About sunshine, and ocean highways, and the delicious chocolate milkshakes they make at In N Out Burger. God, sometimes I miss it there.

But I’m here, where the days drag on like the winters that are cruel and bitter. People don’t even speak the same language. I find myself unable to communicate with the people around me.

I’m lost in this delusion. This madness that captivates me about my native land…If I could only just breathe in the smog one last time.

But every season has an end. And you wake up from your daydreams, put on a couple of parkas and shovel another driveway full of snow…