I never sleep the night before a trip
I lie in bed thinking about the things I could possibly forget
anticipating reunions and adventures
I think about how I’m going to miss my dog
and I wonder if she’ll miss me
from the boarding house we’re putting her up in for three and a half weeks
I feel guilty about it
but she barks too much for any of my friends to want to take her
I wonder if the people I’m visiting are going to remember me the way I was
the way I used to be
it’s been five years this go around
five years that have aged me
will I be forever a child in their minds
or will they let the new me in
accept my broken bits
and the new parts of myself I’ve grown into
I try not to think about the flight
if I dwell too long on the fact that I will be in a metal box in the sky
for ten hours
flying over an ocean 
breathing recycled air
and stuck between a stranger and my sibling 
then I won’t be able to force myself on that plane tomorrow
so instead I try to think about family and the people who will miss me
and the people who won’t even notice I’m gone