I've been back in the good old US of A for about a month now...and I've discovered something very profound: it takes leaving home to want to come back. And when I say "come back home", I don't just mean back to America...I mean back to the place of my childhood.
After a year of on-and-off travel, I have moved back home. To Oklahoma City!?!?!?
Yes, to Oklahoma City. Where the wind comes sweepin' down the plains. Where Republicans out number Democrats about 1,000 to one. Where churches and bible stores line the streets. Where the terms "vegetarian," "eco-friendly," and "think global, support local" raise an eyebrow or cause parents to ear-muff their children. And, where my family resides.
Had you asked me 9 years ago, as I headed down to Austin, TX to begin my undergraduate schooling at the (beautiful) University of Texas, if I had plans to ever come back to Oklahoma City, I probably would have laughed in your face.
Had you asked me 5 years ago, whether I would want to come back home to LIVE WITH MY PARENTS, I would have told you, "I can't even handle being here a weekend, this place is toxic."
Had you asked me 2 years ago, if I could imagine myself packing up my entire life from (the best city in the world) Austin to move it to (conservative, heart of the bible belt) Oklahoma City, I would have looked at you like you were nuts.
But now you can ask me..."then what are you doing back in Oklahoma City, living with your parents?!?!" Well, I'll tell you this: sometimes it takes leaving home to realize how incredible your family is. How they love you unconditionally. How they support you in times of transition and pain. How they want the best for you, no matter what you've been through individually and together as a family unit. Sometimes it takes traveling the world, to discover that your world began with your family.
And for that, I am grateful.
