I miss
being able to call, any hour
not counting the minutes that I'm paying for
I miss
a house
a shack, really
all damp smells and home comforts
I miss the sound
the noise
the fatherly newspaper shuffle, sharp words
fuck off dad
it's my turn for the tv
I miss
calling my sister a bitch
when she's wearing my clothes
I miss cold snaps
ginger snaps
cheese chocolate bread butter rain maijuana
I miss feeling your soft, ever-loving
maternal body warm mine
big hugs, big smiles
no digitalised
I miss a love that isn't pixelated
that varies
according to thunderstorms, and broadband providers.
Steph Carter is a writer and English tutor who moved to Hong Kong in August 2012. Read more of her work here and check out my Q&A with her. Want to submit a piece of writing for the blog? Feel free: email me via chrispbone [at] gmail [dot] com, Tweet me @chrispbone, or leave a comment below.
PFHK
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