In true Simon and Garfunkel fashion I am Vernon-bound tomorrow bright and early. Though I have had my fill of planes as of late, I am not complaining one bit about going to see my parents.
My my, how things can change with time. Five years ago I was "coming home" from Mexico. I use quotations because "home" was a relative term back then and "home" for me meant where ever my mom had decided to hang her hat (and her many objets d'art) as she'd packed up and sold our house, divorced my step-dad and moved into Jamie's house. I came "home" to a new home, a new family and a new life, for the second time in my short life.
Now that new "home" has become the home without quotation marks. It's become the place of serenity and comfort and stability that I yearned for as an angsty teenager. I go home and I know exactly what to expect (depending on the particular folliage of any given season, mind you). My mom will tell me jokes and make me laugh like I didn't know possible. She, Jamie, the dogs and I will listen to jazz and watch sunsets together and I will remember why I am the luckiest girl in the whole wide world (because of said "home" finally being just a home) and I will feel refreshed and invigorated and most of all: loved.
All of this begs the question though, what will another five years bring?
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