I miss home. There. I said it.
Maybe its just one of those nights, or maybe it has finally set in, but I miss home. I miss the redneck and ghetto “little” town that is home to the famous butt-shaped water tower (it’s actually a peach -- don’t worry).
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Pictures are worth a thousand words, and anybody that knows me knows that I love pictures. I love the memories that are captured with pictures and I love being able to return to those pictures time and time again. To remember a moment, a thought, a first experience, a love, a laugh, a kiss, a once in a life time opportunity... I love all of the memories that pictures create.
But tonight, as I scrolled through the 5,000 plus pictures on my phone, it backfired.
I miss my grandma
I miss driving to her house whenever I wanted to see her to just laugh and joke with her. I miss sharing my life with her and gaining words of wisdom and gentleness with each conversation. I miss her running her fingers through my hair and running my fingers across the back of her hand. I miss walking in through the garage door to find her cooking fried chicken and feeling like I was on top of the world. I miss the smell and the coziness of her home that she breathes love into every day. I miss her laughter. I miss her mac and cheese. (No one can make it like her. Trust me. She even gave us the recipe and I swear it only tastes so good because she breathes her love into it. It has to be.) I miss her seven-layer chocolate cake. I miss the never-ending support to chase after God and follow my dreams, even if those dreams were to get married right away.
I miss my best friend
I miss lifting in ninth grade with Tony the Tiger and never dropping planks. I miss lunch senior year, sitting in the floor of commons and talking trash about people when they stole our spot. I miss taking our lunches to school in our Vera Bradley lunch boxes and comparing yogurts every day. I miss homeroom when we would be half asleep and hiding behind computers taking Snapchats. I miss Chemistry with Mrs. Bettis when she moved us across the room because we talked too much (she said that wasn’t the reason but we all knew the truth). I miss prom and taking the most beautiful pictures with our two handsome men. I miss hearing every detail of her life on a daily basis and never even second guessing what she was doing at each and every moment, for example getting a new job at a bakery (lifelong goal here and I just found out -- I’m not bitter).
I miss my BFC
Best Friend Cousin. I miss her. I miss walking into her house unannounced and spending the night. Because, without a doubt, even though I was already family, I was more than just a cousin. I miss random swims and tanning even though she can’t stay still long enough to even make a difference. I miss screaming… I mean singing in the car on the way to wherever our hearts deemed fit. I miss fussing like crazy and then laughing about it 10 minutes later. I miss terrorizing Sandi by encouraging Richard on and on and on. I miss making up our own language and speaking it fluently. I miss walking into work and seeing her beautiful face. I miss the Zaxby’s runs and awkward Daddy Joe’s meals. I miss trying to give her advice and then arguing about it. And I really do miss all the selfies we shared… oh, the selfies.
I miss my high school teachers
I miss Mrs. Fox and her crazy self. Although she did leave us stranded in ninth grade listening to Great Expectations on an opera audio tape. I miss her reading the books aloud because she made them all so much more interesting. I miss her running in and out of the training room screaming and hollering about God knows what on any given day. I miss Coach Fuller and the daily talks we shared. Whether it was about God, family, dreams or relationships, he and I always shared one of the strongest bonds of any other teacher I have ever encountered. He guided me in ways that I can never thank him enough for. I miss the laughs, the Star Wars and Wizard of Oz quotes, and the looks of disapproval for who knows what. I miss you, Wizard of Ben.
And last, but certainly not least, I miss Coach Holmes. Coach Holmes taught me something that no one else in the world has. He taught me about my passion and how to pursue it. He knew it way before I did. I don’t know, maybe he was in communication with God or maybe he’s just that good, but he was sure to never let me forget that I was (and still am) perfect for athletic training. I miss working under Holmes. Good days and bad. I miss screaming and fighting with him over what was the best treatment for the athletes as if I was on his level of expertise. I miss losing to Rummy and him accusing me of cheating when I did somehow beat him. I miss showing him up with my taping skills and taking over when all he wanted to do was quit.
I have never been one to miss home. Maybe when I was at the lake with my best friend Annah (her name is Anna with an H -- don’t forget the H!) and her dog Parris bit my finger, I missed home then. But never, ever would I have guessed that I would be lying in my bed in my dorm room (which feels more like home than my actual home does) wishing I was in that crazy peach town.
