So…I traveled back to West Palm Beach this past weekend. You always learn something when you go back to a place of recognition, of family, of history, of love. It’s easy to complain about the people closest to you, it’s easy to complain about the people that have been there all along, it’s easy to complain about things or people you never fear you’ll lose.
But, guess what? You can lose all of that in the blink of an eye. And what you need to realize before it’s too late is that those things, those people, those home-made recipes are as fleeting as last week’s Us Weekly. I’m not being a pessimist or a writer ridden with negativity. In fact, I’m quite the opposite. I’m an optimist, I’m a writer who advocates positivity; I enjoy good food and good wine (and if it’s not, I keep it to myself), I enjoy runs and bikes by the lake, I enjoy loving a man who loves me back, I love puppies and hotdogs with ketchup, I love that my doorman has a nickname for me. Seriously, it’s the little things…
I guess what I’m saying – if I’m even adept at doing so – is that life is short. Your home will always be yours, even if it has become your home away from home. But being home home this past weekend taught me that I could wear my glasses 24 hours a day/7 days a week and no one would care, I could go for a bike ride in shorts that I wore in high school (which are now too short, but god willing (who am I kidding?), not too tight), I could go to sleep at 8 pm (7 central time) and not be made fun of, I could be the person I was before I moved to Chicago almost 10 years ago.
The thing is, I think – and I really believe – that I am that same person who arrived on an Evanston campus in 2001, albeit almost 10 years older (and, hopefully, a little wiser?). The only thing lacking is that the people who knew me 10+ years before are not there to bear witness to whom I’ve become. I still wear glasses to business meetings, I wear too short of shorts when I bike to Hollywood and Sheridan, and I certainly go to sleep at 9 pm (8 central time) when the opportunity presents itself (say on a Friday night after watching too much ABC…or drinking too much Frog’s Leap Sauv Blanc…on a Thursday).
I’ve lived in the Chicagoland area for 10 years – I’m blessed by the people that I’ve met and the families that have welcomed me. Especially, a particular one. But, because my own personal family lives halfway across the country, it’s sometimes hard to acknowledge that this is my home now. But – and it’s a big but – I have created a family that I hope will be with me if I have to move halfway across the country again. Although these people don’t know what I wore to my high school prom, or whether I served on homecoming court, they do know that I live in a one-bedroom apartment with a small, three-pound dog named Pippin and I talk to my mom at least six times a day.
Families come in all shapes and sizes. I am blessed – seriously blessed – by my mother, my father, and my sister. And by those that have welcomed me to this Midwest town I’ve come to call home. Thank you.
