Let me start you off with a little background on myself. I grew up in a town in a North Florida that people like to call “The Cozy Cove.”
Nope, not just because it’s cozy. Mostly because no one can ever seem to get the hell out of it.
My parents house had just finished being built when I was born, so that house is the only place I’ve ever been able to call home. I grew up with 2 older sisters & we somehow managed to not bring the whole house down from slamming doors as we grew up (if you have a sister, you know exactly what I mean.) My dad always had the camcorder (remember those?) out to capture each special moment and my mom was always making sure we were happy at all times. Although you don’t notice when you’re young, having those little moments to watch as you grow up restores my inner child and makes me realize just how amazing my childhood was.
Did I mention growing up in Florida also means endless Disney World Trips?
Throughout all my school years and even my first 4 years of college, I lived in that same house in the same room for all of it. From coming home and showing my parents what I made in art class, to coming home from college burnt out over labs and exams, that house saw it all. Most of my friends had moved out and moved on. But no, not me. I had never traveled far, I had never been on an airplane, and I had no real interest in going anywhere.
But eventually, things change.
I began to crave travel. I started having this overwhelming feeling of wanderlust and wanting to see more of the world. I went on an impromptu trip to New York City and after that, I was hooked. Something about being out of your comfort zone and seeing new places you’ve never seen before, its addicting. Fast forward and I went on a trip to the UK with my then boyfriend, now husband (that’s a whole other story), and thats when I realized how little of the world I had really seen. Sure, I had been to neighboring states back home, but this was like another world to me. And that was when I said to myself, “I gotta do this more often.”
But I was homesick, yes.
Even now, married and moved out, I still get homesick.
Nothing’s easy when you’ve lived in the same home for 23 years and you’re so eager to get out that when you finally do, you miss it. The house I grew up in will always be my home. My family will always be my home. The driveway we used to cover with chalk, the backyard where our imagination ran wild just like we did, and the kitchen where my dad made pancakes every single Saturday morning; that will always be home. They say, the magic thing about home is that it feels good to leave, and it feels even better to come back. I couldn’t agree more.