WHAT WOMEN WANT is to not hate family holidays

Okay. I am going to try to post a blog a week. Please, keep me accountable. I have realized that in order to be successful in life, you usually have to have conviction (imagine that!).

And as my classmates and peers around me apply for their summer internships at their accounting, insurance, or law firms, I continue to realize there is literally anything else I would rather do. 

Also might I add that anytime I mention this to people I get laughed off like a tiny little girl who is saying she still believes in the tooth fairy.

Anywho. I am on the plane right now going home for my Thanksgiving break. This will be the first time I will be home since August. Also meaning that this is the longest time I have ever been away from home, or each member of my family, ever.

And, to be honest, this was much needed. After leaving at summer's somber end, myself in an equally somber mood after having what was probably one of the most, let's say, trying summers with my family, what I needed above all was space.

The fact that I go to a school thousands of miles away greatly remedied this.

And so, after a consistent therapy schedule, a significantly lessened amount of calls to my family (I used to call them everyday and when I told my roommates this they looked at me with both disbelief and horror), and a lot of journaling (which felt performative at first but then I quickly realized everyone preaches about it for a reason), I have to say, I feel pretty wonderful.

And furthermore, I feel extremely excited to be back home, back with family, and back with friends.

So. This will be an active document of some sorts. 

Because soon, this plane will land, and I will be walking in my familiar hometown airport, driving a route I could map blind, and step into the one home I have ever lived in. 

Who knows what awaits me. 

And what awaited me, my dear readers, was love. 

So much of it I am full. 

I walked into my house, which was in a chaotic spiral including a lost cat, a construction zone, and a burnt dinner, and smiled.

Noise. The noise of my sisters, whether it be laughing or fighting, the noise of my mom’s incessant humming, or the click-clacking of my dads computer in the living room, was all so welcome and exciting and funny that I couldn’t help but smile.

I was hugged and kissed. I was told by my sisters at Thanksgiving dinner that almost every day they shared the sentence, “We wish she was here”. I learned the fox trot with my dad. I traded books with my best friend and inhaled mountain air and dipped my fingers into the river by my house.

And all of it, each and every tiny action, felt as if it was welcoming me home. 

And as I crept out of my sister's warm bed at night, silently, carefully, to refill my cup, the house creaked. And it said  “We missed you. Did you miss us?”