There is truly nothing like coming home.
You can find a post from last year's Indiana happiness here.
Every time I come back I feel flooded with relief that there are green trees all over the place, grass, and even a hill here and there. There are countless familiar places, filled with memories of every moment of years that made me, me.
I feel comfortable, confident and courageous.
Fine, I don't really feel courageous, but I just liked the idea of another 'c' word in that string. I could feel courageous, I just haven't been faced with a courage worthy situation yet. I'll keep you updated though.
I love this place.
On Friday, I drove less than five minutes to meet my best friend since first grade's brand new baby girl. There is something profoundly awesome about that. I wish I had it more often.
I love that I am writing from my childhood room. This is where I have played with baby dolls, perfected the rolling of my jeans, Aqua Netted my hair, and cried over boyfriends. This is where I spent the night before I started the scary journey through middle school, the night before I left for college, the night before I studied abroad, and the night before my wedding.
This place is filled with my monumental joys and my heartaches, which I cherish.
I used to pray and pray that Alex would want to move here. I begged God to change Alex's heart so he could see how much I miss it, how much I want to be here, and that my feelings, my desperation would be enough.
In ten years it has never happened though, never even a moment of pretend consideration.
It isn't happening. It's not my way.
A few years ago I made peace with it and figured there is a reason I'm not here. There is something I need to do in Texas, or not do here. But I'd be lying though if I said that peace is a constant sense of calm and not a knock down fight within myself, particularly when I am here.
It's difficult. I want to be here.
Two quick, non-emotional items that I can't resist sharing with you all...
First, you'll notice I haven't written since I arrived. My lack of writing is due to the lack of Internet at my parents' house post 10 pm, when I finally have an opportunity to write. My Mother turns off their wi-fi every night because she believes that some boys that live behind here will surely jump on her Internet connection and immediately start sorting through all the porn the world wide web has to offer.
She is against that.
Second, I used a telephone book today.
There isn't really anything more to this information than that, but I found it really strange and needed to tell someone. Sidenote: It still works!
Alright, who wants to offer my husband some insanely awesome position of employment in the Indianapolis area? Email me.