When you love a person, it is the simplest thing to blind yourself to everyone else around you. What happens, then, when you fall in love with an entire group, a tightly knit band of men and women, without whom you can’t imagine your life? And what happens when, during a few blissful, choice weekends, you get to bask in their glory as a whole?
Well, if you’re me, there is lots of crying involved. Tears of joy, of course, because your heart feels certain it will erupt and spill emotions all over the floors so caked in glitter from the years that the shine has become permanent. And you don’t feel blind to anything else around you, but hyper aware that these are kindred spirits flitting and floating through rooms and fields of vision and you want to make sure you don’t miss a second.
My trip to North Carolina was complete with gorgeous weather, gorgeous people, and ducks.
There were old friends and new. Many of these people I haven’t seen since June, making it the longest amount of time I’ve been away. Since I graduated and moved just down the road (8 miles? chump change), I’ve always been lucky enough to just drive a few minutes to see my beloved fraternity. This was the first time I felt like one of those far-flung alums who comes home to revisit her glory days. I kind of had this fear that I’d feel left out. Like I’d be out of place since my past few occasions spent in NC weren’t focused on meeting the new people, and now they’re all new people.
It was just that: coming home. And who feels left out when they’re home? Certainly not this chick.
I flew back to Philadelphia Monday morning with a lightness in my heart (and a heaviness in my bag, as I smuggled about 4500 mL of beer back North). A lightness that reminds me that you can always go home, wherever home is. And, chances are, your family will be waiting with a song on the stereo and beers in the cooler. It’ll be just like you never left.
Thanks, North Carolina, for welcoming me back. I’ll see you soon, though not soon enough.