welcome home.

This week, I booked my flight to go back to Michigan for a week. It'll be my first visit back, since I moved two years ago. Suffice it to say, I don't know what in the hell to expect from the visit.

...except that from the moment I land at DTW, I'm going to want to come back home.

HOME, home. Home as in here, where I am right at this very moment. California. With it's sprawling mountains and clear blue skies, vineyards and incessant heat with no humidity. With my house, my car, my stuff, my life.



I realize this is an odd statement to make, considering I grew up in Michigan and all. My first twenty years were spent there; first experiences for everything. Graduation. Family. Friends. I knew the area like the back of my hand. But now? I look at pictures like the one above, and I struggle to put it together. It's like trying to place together this jigsaw puzzle of a former life I led, with pieces that seem to get smaller by the minute, losing the intricate details. Sometimes, they fall into place immediately. Other times, they do after awhile but lately, it's not coming at all. And I'm oddly okay with that fact.

Let me rephrase this: I don't hate Michigan. It's the place that I grew up. It's the place where my family lives, whom I miss terribly. It's the place that introduced me to some amazing people that I call my friends, and whom I can't wait to see again. But I'm just completely disconnected from the place. I have been for a long time, even before I moved. Is that weird? To live in a place your whole life and just feel like no matter what, you don't belong there? That there's something out there that is better and worth reaching for? Maybe an actual place you can love? Well, that's my thinking. In one big crazy nutshell tied with a bow.

Two years. It's not all that long of a time if you think about it. Two years is a long time for someone or some place to change. I don't expect the place to have changed. In fact, I know that it hasn't all that much. But for people to change? That's way more than enough time. Don't we all put this ridiculous amount of pressure on ourselves when it comes to proving others wrong? Or maybe that's just me. I feel like people are expecting this whole different person to come waltzing back into their lives (for a goddamn week, mind you) and blow their hair back with OH MY GOD, LOOK HOW MUCH YOU'VE CHANGED. When in reality, I'm still the same person - just a little older, much wiser and (hopefully) a little more tan. No valley girl accent, no glamorous L.A. lifestyle stories, just me. I want people to recognize that I'm the same person, just more finely tuned. I want them to see that everything that I've gone through and everything I've struggled with was worth it. And just how much I love my life and where I'm at right now, because it's helped me become the best person I can.

But most of all, splitting my time (equally) between my parents is what stresses me out more than anything. It's a never ending battle when it comes to stroking the egos of a divorced family. Fighting a losing battle, I think is what they call it? Oh well...I guess that's why they make pills designed to deal with these situations. And believe you me, I'm planning on stocking up on Mama's Little Helpers before this trip. It'll be what's best for all parties involved.

However, as for the godforsaken humidity I'll be experiencing when I'm there at the end of August? Shoot me in the head, now.