Home.

I recently spent a week back at my parents place in Michigan for the Thanksgiving holiday. As I drove my over-packed little SUV into the sleepy town that I called home for so many years, I couldn’t help but be overcome with feelings of deep love and nostalgia… and unfamiliarity all at once. It’s strange, this quiet little town. Nothing ever seems to change, but each time I pull off of US-10, I can’t help but feel more like everything has, and that I’m no more than a guest in this town than someone who called this place home for nearly my entire life.

I knew this was inevitable, and I’m sure it’s something that’s been progressing for the many years that I’ve now lived away from my parents and the home that I grew up in. But this particular trip, it seemed that this thing — this feeling — had transitioned from something I knew would eventually happen to something that already had.

Maybe this transition that came to light in the middle of my cozy visit to my favorite little city by the bay because for the first time in I’m not even sure how many years, I feel like I’m starting to put roots down somewhere else… and entirely on my own. It’s a strange, and absolutely wonderful feeling at the same time.

The sleepy little town where many of those closest to my heart still reside will always hold a special place in my heart… I’m just not certain that I can call it “home” for much longer. The jury is still out on exactly how I feel about that.

Because sometimes, you can’t find the right words.

It’s been longer than I would like to admit since my last post. A crazy work and travel schedule is partly to blame… but sometimes, there just aren’t words to say what needs to be said.

The last two weeks has held too much loss for words. This is the best I can do at this moment in time…