Going back home

My fourth of July was pretty good. And kind of weird. On this fifth of July I realize I miss my family and may even want one of my own. Mumford and Sons reaches a crescendo in my food-blog-ready kitchen, their beards tickling my goosebumps as I imagine a future as a mother, then the song changes and I forgot what was so inspiring. Must remind myself pictures of other people’s children on fb is not a reason to have children.

What was good about this Fourth of July? My family-free three day weekend had mimosas, window shopping, grilling, reading, tequila, social media and straight up Netflix. My holidays have been like this, family-free and fabulous, for some years now, my need to live elsewhere from them freeing me of invitations and obligations.

Strangely, an invitation would have been nice this year. It’s a weird thing to realize after almost 20 years of distancing yourself. Time is getting short for my parents and age grows distance, especially for my sister’s children.

Despite the popular notion that one cannot, there must be some way, to go back home. But you know, the home that you want now, not the one you remember or the one that probably actually exists.