It's A Wonderful Life

It’s quite strange being back in North Carolina after living in New York for several months. I almost feel as though I’ve been in a coma, and my life in New York is some elaborate dream. Every day this week, I’ve opened my eyes and seen the same bedroom that I lived in for 18 years. I’ve been working my old job at Starbucks over the holiday season, and aside from my room being cleaner (thanks, mom!) and my brother being taller, (grr) things feel quite the same.

There’s a whole host of mixed emotions in my mind right now. I love New York, and I’m home there. I’m going back in less than two weeks, and I see myself quite possibly staying there for the rest of my life. But this room, this house, is a place of emotional security and warmth. Even when my town has been too small or my woods too spider-filled, my house has never failed to be a source of comfort, due in part to my family who is here, and in part to the unchanging stains on my carpet, the pictures on my walls and life I’ve lived here.

I love here, and I love there, and while the two polar opposite places seem to conflict with one another, I’m able to love both places with open arms. I’m grateful for the stability of my childhood, complete with a nurturing mom, peacemaking and caring dad, adorably quirky brother, two cats, three dogs, and a network of friends. And because of that stability, I can be truly grateful for a tiny apartment in New York, 24/7 access to ice cream and a huge school family with dorky biblical puns and people who read Plato for play.

I’m thankful that I get to spend the holidays with my family here, I’m grateful for free laundry and not having to cook every meal for myself, and I’m grateful for the life that I have, spiders, sirens, southern drivers, snowstorms, splinters and all.

Merry Christmas.