Moments of homesickness
I know that moving to Florida was necessary for my health. I'm grateful for the healthy relationship that has been growing between my parents and me. I've been making friends and getting involved the community. Still, there are moments when I feel as though there's a part of me that has been amputated, that I miss terribly.
This is going to be my second year of missing Firefly Arts Collective (not to be confused with Joss Whedon's Firefly). I only discovered and got to go to one Baitcon. Arisia plans surface throughout my friends' posts throughout the year.
There is no place here where I feel like that. It sucks. I feel a little lost when I have these moments.
Then I remind myself how much pain I was in every autumn and winter, and how trapped I would be when storms left my house buried in snow and ice, until someone could get me out, and how wonderful it is for me to be able to live a mostly normal life twelve months a year, and how cool it is that I can live so close to my parents and have such a good relationship with them.
It helps a little. Still, I miss my people up north. I had something special there that I'm not sure I'll be able to build down here.
I'm not sure I have a point to all this. Maybe I just want people to know that though I'm not around, I still know how special the communities, as broken and turbulent as they can be, were for me, and I treasure those moments of connectedness that we've had.
Anyway, my sleepy drugs are kicking in and my dryer is done, so it's time to hang and fold clothes and then go fall down boom.
Miss you all, my Northeasterners. Come visit sometime.
This is going to be my second year of missing Firefly Arts Collective (not to be confused with Joss Whedon's Firefly). I only discovered and got to go to one Baitcon. Arisia plans surface throughout my friends' posts throughout the year.
There is no place here where I feel like that. It sucks. I feel a little lost when I have these moments.
Then I remind myself how much pain I was in every autumn and winter, and how trapped I would be when storms left my house buried in snow and ice, until someone could get me out, and how wonderful it is for me to be able to live a mostly normal life twelve months a year, and how cool it is that I can live so close to my parents and have such a good relationship with them.
It helps a little. Still, I miss my people up north. I had something special there that I'm not sure I'll be able to build down here.
I'm not sure I have a point to all this. Maybe I just want people to know that though I'm not around, I still know how special the communities, as broken and turbulent as they can be, were for me, and I treasure those moments of connectedness that we've had.
Anyway, my sleepy drugs are kicking in and my dryer is done, so it's time to hang and fold clothes and then go fall down boom.
Miss you all, my Northeasterners. Come visit sometime.