Homegrown Sassypants

Coming home is always a rejuvenating time, a time to get away and refresh my batteries....and not wear pants.

Looking back at old times, time seemed to stretch endlessly with limitless possibilities of how they future may unfold. As my friend Emily's latest blog post discusses, home can be one of countless places, wherever we may lay our heads for the night.

Home for me for 18 years was walking to Grammie's house, catching up on all the craziness of our small town and the bureaucracy of grade school {particularly high school}, and snacking on Klondike bars and Pepsi.

Since her passing, and being away for so long, my connections to this small town keep *ping ping* snapping, releasing their tethers, which is bittersweet as I always thought I wanted to get away, but hold on to certain memories to preserve them for as long as possible...

Booboobeeboo, Grammie, and my beautiful sissy

Glancing through old photographs and my phone's photo reel, it's evident how I've grown, not merely physically, but mentally and psychologically as well.... Reading through Emily's post had me thinking of the transition to my new home and my natural tendency to continue to refer to my childhood digs as "home."

While E-town is my current home, according to my credit cards' billing address and updated DMV profile, bumfuck C-field and wherever my Mum and Fajer are located will always feel like home as well....and same goes for dear ol' London. Hell's bells, I even called the Greyhound bus during my birthday escape from life excursion home as that is where I laid my head to catch some zzzz's overnight. Home truly is a state, not merely a location, as it morphs us into the person we are today: resilient, arrogant, open-minded, kind, standoffish, etc.

This bright-eyed girl has seen many, many things and many places. In looking back, I never could have fathomed I'd be where I am {for better or for worse}, but hope that I can be someone of whom my younger self could possibly be proud. 

And even though many of my adventures have been taken alone instead of with the person I had thought they would be with when I was younger, perhaps that has only helped shape me to be more independent, fiercer and hungrier for happiness.

Maybe home can be in my own head and heart, both of which have seemed hostile at one point or another {or twelve}. Perhaps the key into my safe haven is finding peace with myself and, like Emily, calling my night's final resting place, "home."

Happy photos from happy times in the past: 17 & 18, respectively. As much as I like to think I've grown from this smiling brunette, I can't help but wish I could channel some of her optimistic spirit to help fuel my wild child and bull-headed tendencies, and fashion them into serum for when I'm feeling trapped or doubting my capabilities, whether it's in personal or professional aspects.

Little girl. I've spoken back to her in my journal before as a means of comfort, and I hope that little girl inside at least hears some of the things I tell her, albeit knowing my stubborn self, she likely won't.

Verdict on home: it's within every one of us. It's a plethora of things: a person, a place, a memory, a song. It's comfort.

It's bed, which is where I'm heading.

xxxxx

9-5 Grind

The Tree and his band have a lovely song to express the tribulations of work and juggling personal life during those off-duty hours.

As mentioned before, we work to live, not live to work. I whole-heartedly believe in this philosophy... I also find that if you love your job, it helps justify the long hours put in - sure, it's still work, but life is work, whether there's a paycheck for everything accomplished or not.

Nonetheless, after working a 50-hr week {short compared to many in this country}, a trip home was long overdue.

A trip home where my roots began in order to recharge on zzz's and Mummy's cooking.

Alumni band: a homecoming of all homecomings since my Mum took over my senior year of band 5 years ago. It's incredible; no matter how many years pass, there are so many happy faces willing to come back to take the field again and to relive that magical moment only experienced by such a performance.

Our good ol' Alma Mater was represented by graduates from as recently as spring 2015 and the whole way back to 1928 with the first ever drum major for our high school band.

Many memories shared on the field, and many more to come as alumni come back and as musicians continue to participate in marching band.

11th year of twirling with my bestie! We went through middle school and high school marching band together and reconvene each year for alumni band. Nostalgia in the extreme.... Muscle memory has not failed us yet!

At the end of the day, I'm all smiles. A long week and weekend - driving 3hrs to go straight to work is a little daunting, but I'm loving what I do and enjoying the free time I have to see friends and family.

Confining myself to one minuscule dot on the world map is not how I plan on spending the rest of my life, but life is a constant journey to see new things and meet new people, to grasp opportunities, and to take those chances/jumps/leaps which we might otherwise be scared to do.

Takeaway of the post: go back to your roots once in a while to remind yourself from whence you came and give your all in your work - it'll pay off and lead to even better adventures!