I grew up in, popped out the window screen of to sneak out of twice a week my second year of high school, hid my first bottle of tequila in; where I left that bottle in a suitcase in the closet when I left for boarding school and where my mother found said bottle and texted me a picture with only a question mark; where every time I came back I felt bigger until one day I didn’t; where I still keep just enough of my things to feel like it’s my home still, even though not even my mother lives there anymore, and where all of said things have found their way to the bottom of their drawers or been moved to the shed so that my room can be available as a second guest room on short notice; where I leave my favorite bed sheets, candle, book, even though if I took them with me I’d feel more at home anywhere I went; where very few of my friends now have ever seen; where the spot on the wall next to the dresser where I tripped and scratched the paint shows the green wall paint I picked out in 2016 and covered with red in 2019; where all my high school yearbooks sit in a nightstand and Polaroids wrapped in rubber bands are all stacked facing the same direction with all the faces getting younger.
21-year-old Dustin Veber, from Bozeman, Montana, is currently living in Boise and seeking an undergraduate degree in English education from Boise State University. Aside from writing, his hobbies include being a musician and amateur cook. He has recently been awarded first place in his university’s Presidential Writing competition with his essay titled “how we survive.”
Eunoia Review 