one more week.

i can't wait to get back to chicago where i can buy veggies at stanley's and falafel at sultan's and drink coffee from my french press and cook in our kitchen and sleep in a bed truly wide enough for two and snuggle up with friends to watch movies and draw pictures to paste on the walls, and eat tortillas again, and good avocadoes, and read books in english, for fun, not for class. food not bombs and working bikes and the relaxation of friends i've known for long enough to love real hard. i'm ready for bike rides down long long flat streets in the freezing cold until my toes hurt, for ridiculous dance parties and sunday morning coffee shops and newspapers. politics i understand.

i'm going to miss vienna's markets and smiles and invitations. i'm really going to miss the punk scenes and bike scenes and all the people who make it all not even into "scenes", just community. i'm going to miss I:DA and EKH and Rupp's and all-night falafel stands and cafes that let you linger for hours. i'm going to miss the way everyone just lets you be. night-rides and critical mass and graffiti. the naschmarkt, tomatoes, mushrooms, extra-strong garlic. all these other countries within a few hours' reach, transportation systems that actually work. everyone i still haven't gotten to know as well as i'd like, but well enough to miss for sure.

the last week creeping towards that inevitable ending is always the worst time of all. leaving bynum, leaving carrboro, leaving portland, leaving chicago each time. this weird anticipation and the forced importance of everything - each time i see you i have to say goodbye for good, just in case. she asked me if i wanted a farewell party and i laughed a no, but now i wish i had a way to pull them all together now for one last time.

i am the queen of nostalgia and anticipation and that strange kind of longing in the pit of my stomach.