I just completed my Tour De Florida and it was amazing and exhausting, but long overdue. Although I love my life in California it made me realize the little things, big hearts and people I miss back home. I miss the mildly sticky humidity, the afternoon thunderstorms, the warm Atlantic Ocean water and all the bright, shining, smiling faces of loved ones.
Family is something you can often take for granted especially when you live in your home town. The importance of a family dinner, the opportunity to sit on the couch while your mom makes you a snack or does your laundry, listening to your dog bark at everything or just sitting on the porch swing with your dad in complete silence are completely forgotten. When I was home I hardly went home, at least not to the home I was raised in. I spent most of my days at the beach, in the water or drinking with friends and although I believe that my friends are my second family, I never really thought much of my parents or my old room or the little quirks and traditions of my home life. Then I returned after a six month hiatus and it overwhelmed me. I missed the “Filipino” food smell of my house, all the little flip flops waiting by the door because the rule is “No Shoes in the House”, our dog, Lucy barking and jumping. I missed my old room now packed with boxes of materialistic things I couldn’t take with me to San Diego.
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| Doesn't she look happy to see me? |
I guess it was selfish of me to think everyone’s lives stopped when I left Florida and that they couldn’t go on without me, but as soon as I stepped into my Whitehouse I realized how wrong I was. I missed them so much more than they could ever realize. I stared at my mom and dad for hours as they asked me questions about my new life. I tried to memorize the lines in their faces so I could take it back with me. I talked my sister’s ear off and watched her eyes spin in circles. I held my baby niece for the first time. I ate my mom’s homemade food. I laughed. I cried. It felt good to be home.
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