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I'm just going to ignore the fact that after a week in South Carolina with my family for Thanksgiving , I have to return to work on Monday morning and face the drudgery that is office life.

My visit was unsurprisingly awesome and as I only venture home once a year, i tried to soak up as much family time as I could.

Nonetheless, after 6 days of laughing and eating and entertaining my four year old nephew, I was very excited to return to my New York and my little haven. I can't explain how weird it is to return home to South Carolina and realize that that place is not really my home anymore. It is a place where my mom and brother and nephew live, it is a place full of distorted memories and nostalgic artifacts but it is not fully home anymore.  

My family drove me to the airport and there were emotional goodbyes and long hugs but I think on both of our parts there was also a sense of  relief with Thanksgiving being over so that we could all return to our routines and way of living that we've grown accustomed too. 

And maybe this has nothing to do with South Carolina, or my mom or my brother. Maybe this disconnect has more to do with the fact I am creating a life for myself in New York that is vastly different and all of my own. I walked into my place today and just sort of sat there for a minute, among the Christmas decor I put up before I left and felt...i don't know..happy/content/ to be home. In this small little apartment, in this small little town. I felt content and at peace. 

Sure, things definitely aren't perfect in my life but they are good. My life feels good and there is something confronting in that.