I’m not sure when it happened exactly – or why – but at some point over the last few years, home for the holidays took on a completely different appeal for me.
In college, I think everyone lives for the night before Thanksgiving. The night when old high school friends get together in their hometown to chat about what they’re studying in college, share what crazy things they’ve learned so far and prove who can now drink the most after practicing at numerous keg parties.
I liked that night.
and I still do.
Home wouldn’t be the same without the close (or now distant) friends that come with it.
However, now when I think of going home for the holidays, my excitement for catching up with old friends is somewhat overshadowed by my excitement to just be –
…Maybe that’s when it happened…
…when life got real (er)…
When all of a sudden responsibility took on a whole new meaning.
A “college-is-over-and-your-advisor-isn’t-going-with-you-so-figure-it-out” kind of meaning.
Life got busy, for REAL, somewhere and I think that now I crave more than anything the opportunity to catch up with myself. Ground myself. And just breathe, dammit!
So I do.
When I get the chance to head north for a holiday or regular weekend. I make sure to take some time to just….be.