I cannot believe that Thanksgiving is almost here again. The thought of having five entire days to spend with my family and friends without the stress or pressure of work and school is glorious. Of course... I will have to start studying for finals at some point! But it is definitely time to escape to my home for a little refuge.
Considering the fact that I spent about 8 hours studying for one test this afternoon and evening, a method of study I do not normally practice, I can definitely say I am ready for a break. But I have to do it all over again tomorrow afternoon. What happened to resting on Sundays? haha.
It will all be over sooner than I can imagine, though, I know. It hits me now and then that next year is my last year here at Western. It sounds silly, but that feels so close, especially because I know that it is going to fly by like lightning. Part of me is already dying to be done with undergrad and part of me is aching with reluctance at the thought of leaving.
I am starting to think about where to go to grad school! ME! Graduate school. I've only just turned 20, for heaven's sake. I graduated in 2002. I'm not old enough to be thinking about my future in actuality. I'm only a little girl who dances around her bedroom on a Saturday morning when she wakes up to tiny snowflakes drifting down. A little girl who only two days ago branched off from the crowds of students on the brick walkway making their way to class so that she could kick through the leaves and giggle like she was in kindergarten. A little girl who stands oblivious to the hubbub around her in the student union building and closes her eyes to enjoy the warmth from the tiny stream of sunlight she stumbled across. But I'm not a little girl anymore. These things are childish joys, perhaps, but I find joy in them nonetheless. But they are always just the littlest bit bittersweet because I know I can never enjoy them as fully as a true child can. I have seen too much of the world for it to be that simple anymore.

I miss my dad. I think he thinks I feel closer to mom than I do to him, but it is not true. I am so close to both of them in different ways that I can't even believe it. It is a funny phenomenon when your parents become more than just your parents, but rather evolve into your closest friends. It makes sense that my mom and I can laugh for a half hour over greeting cards in the grocery store together. It makes sense that Dad and I like to talk about what God is doing in our lives for an entire evening. It makes sense because these are the people that created me. Yes, God created me really, but He used them, just as I hope He will someday use me to train up little children into men and women of righteousness.
I have so much to thank my parents for, and I try to do so on a periodic basis, though even that is not enough.

I miss my daddy. I talk to him a couple times a week, but it is not the same. I miss the way he looks at me every time I come in the door. I miss the way I catch him gazing at me sometimes, the look that makes me blush because it is so adoring. I miss the way we still hold hands, even in public, even if that's considered weird for a "grownup girl" to do with her dad. I miss the way he makes sure to build a fire in the fireplace for me every time I come home, just because he knows the great pleasure I derive from spending an afternoon reading in front of it. I know he misses me by the sadness in his voice when he tells me how the boys built a fire this afternoon and how he wishes I were there to enjoy it. I know he misses me by the way he tells me it is good to hear my voice each time I call. He is still my hero, and I cannot write this without tears rolling down.
It is hard to grow up. Though I know when God has made me ready, he will give me over to another to care for me, I cherish this time that I have left to submit to his authority in my life.
I never thought I would see the day when I wrote something that made me cry. Today has come.