Eva Duckler, Contributing Writer

Home. In one swift action I drop my hefty duffle, shut the door. I am faced head on with this sad reality. Looking into the abyss of my unmade bed, wrappers and stray papers leftover from finals, my eyes snap shut. A feverish swirl of senses: visions of stargazing and the scent of rich redwoods, a chorus of small giggles and the backache of giving piggy backs, the wailing cries of homesickness and the warmth of the nine year old nestled in my arms whispering imaginative morsels of wisdom, the moment I had to let them go, tears streaming down my cheeks, their puffy faces press against the glass and the bus engine gives a sputter before blasting away forever. I was a CIT and then I was home, a better person.

Written for the September In-Depth spread, “(87) Days of Summer,” featuring students’ poetry and prose on experiences over summer vacation that changed their perspective.