Melancholy me...

I don't quite get it.

We spend most of our lives striving to break free of the proverbial "nest", that's right... our parents' home. We struggle for independence. Adulthood. Freedom. Late nights. Experiences that are exciting and noteworthy. We live for importance. Not just to be perceived as valuable in our own eyes, but in the eyes of others as well. And, understandably, most of this is granted by our families... our own parents. Our siblings. And yet, many times we want to under-emphasize the roles they have in our lives.

We simply want to say, "I did it all by myself." I am a grown-up.

So, nyah nyah. Boo. Boo.

Ha. This is an attitude that I find myself subscribing to anywhere from 25-70% of the time. Why not a full 75%? Because dear readers. I AM MY PARENTS' CHILD. I was raised in a household where family comes first. We are sticklers for tradition. We stand by one another and for one another. Even though sometimes our relationships may be strained and one of our "flock" may stray too far from the herd, there is always the assumption that the "black sheep" will return and all is forgiven. Although I would consider myself FAR from being a "black sheep", this hazy-gray ewe always returns home. Oso always forgives me for leaving. And so do the parents.

Don't get me wrong. It wasn't a bad thing to move away as far as I did. I have been put to the test. Singed by the fires of Ph.D studies, I (God willingly!) will emerge from this test and move on to do the things I was trained to do. This includes getting a pretty good job. :) However, the one thing I have YET to learn how to do is to completely disassociate from my home. To prevent myself from getting into the routine of life with my parents. I always laugh about becoming 16 again the minute I walk in the door... and I'm beginning to think this is something that will never change. Not because my parents still give me a curfew, etc. But for the simple fact that leaving home is always hard to do.

I bawl at the sight of airports, but only when they're in Texas. And only when I have to come back here. Otherwise, I promise you I LOVE to travel. Yet, for the past four years, regardless of the time of year, I find myself crying miserably everytime I have to leave Lubbock. Yet, it's what I've been trying to do for almost 10 years now. I mean, I APPLIED TO OUT OF STATE SCHOOLS FOR UNDERGRAD FOR PETE'S SAKE! I WANTED TO HAVE LUBBOCK IN MY REAR VIEW MIRROR! I can remember having it in my rear view mirror though. Seeing it get farther and farther away in the distance as my red car and I embarked on a new adventure. I hate to admit it, but there is no place I'd rather be... except HOME. Home could be Texas. Home could be where my family is. But the more I think about it... to me, home is where I feel loved. Where I feel safe. Where I laugh, sing, cry, and most of all... learn.

I guess there is something to be said to that adage that "Home is where the Heart is." I know now you truly have to put your heart into making a place feel like home. You have to take all of those elements you associate with home and somehow put it into where ever you are. So, maybe I've had a hard time rekindling those feelings back into Happy Valley-- but I am constantly reminded that these feelings did and still do exist. As my friend Kelly said, "Don't worry! We'll take care of you!"

So, to all those friends of mine who have dealt with me this week... and my family too, and most of all Caesar... don't worry. I'll get back to normal soon. Soon I won't be so melancholy. Soon I will have so much to do that I will wonder where and when I had the time to be sad, because that time isn't now.

It's time to get my eye back on the prize. Do what I have to do. And get Happy Valley in that rearview mirror.

God knows it's about time.