Keep Falling
Two Monday’s ago, I woke up at 5 am and took the bag I had packed for a weekend in the Hamptons full of shoes and once worn dresses and re-zipped it. I grabbed the nearest big blue Ikea bag and tipped my laundry basket into it, watching as the clothes cascaded out of it, like a cotton avalanche. I kissed my boyfriend good-bye as he sleepily slid toward my side of the bed. I heaved this monstrosity of dirty clothes over my shoulder and lifted my rolling luggage out the front door to the 2011 Subaru Impreza that I share with my little brother. This little silver bullet of a car has almost 150,000 miles on it, smells like my little brothers dirty gym clothes, and in that moment opening up the car door made me happier than I can even express. I needed a break from Brooklyn, and this sweet little four wheeled wonder was my ticket out. I didn’t worry about the wonky back bumper, or that the check engine light has been on basically since we got it a few months ago. I just saw the E ZPa