Today I am very thankful for my family. I've been in this weird transition period lately where I'm sort of homeless and have no idea where the next few months--okay, years--of my life are going to take me, and it has been stressing me out. But here I am, sleeping on the floor of my sister's office, with a serious kink in my neck from the less than pillowy carpet, but I somehow still feel a sort of home.
I realized the cliche is so true: wherever you are with people you love, you are home. Sitting with my family, eating marshmellow fluff and stuffing was home for me at this period of time, even though it was the first time in 15 years I wasn't eating at my Centerville house.
And I know when I go back to my apartment in P-town, that will feel like a different kind of home because my roommates have formed this weird makeshift family, and I actually feel a little homesick for them. And I'm just so grateful that I have people in my life that make me feel like I belong somewhere. No matter what happens, I can always come back to that.
CLICHE. but true.
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