The (travel) Hangover.

Visiting the town I grew up in is always a little strange.

For one, the place always looks EXACTLY the same to me - even though I know there have to be changes... somewhere. It takes me a few days, typically, after a visit to East Texas to recuperate. It's not that I don't like being there, it's that it's emotionally draining - especially when my husband doesn't go with me.

The truth is: I have a lot that I left there that I don't have to face or think about. Until I'm there. Alone.

I went to the track (the high school track... well, the high school, middle school and elementary track... because the school I went to was that small) on Saturday to run a bit - I don't think I had been there since I graduated. And since I spent my senior year of high school avoiding the place altogether, it had probably been longer than that. I'm sure I'm not the only person who gets an eerie feeling being back there: for going to such a teeny school, I lost a lot of friends (in a school of this particular size, your friends with almost everyone... or you at least know everyone and pass them on a daily basis). When I say "lost friends", what I mean is: we all attended many funerals. We all = the people who had to deal with the same thing.

So, while running on the track, thoughts of these people.... these friends seemed to follow closely.

I know nostalgia can be an ugly thing... it's not that I think I'm the only person who left heartbreak, failed relationships (and friendships), my previous self, and headstones that I can't ever go look at - it's that I really don't think about any of this... (on purpose) - it hit me a little hard this time. I rarely go out of town without the husband... so this type of travel hangover isn't usually so bad. I think I'm just now over it this afternoon... I've been back since early Sunday.

I'm used to driving with my parents' house in my rear view and tears in my eyes... it still hurts, but I prepare myself for it. I wasn't prepared this time for the rest of it.

A certain guilt comes with living away from my family. We're a close family - so seeing them once a month (most of the time... sometimes more, sometimes less) is difficult. I see my brother even less than that... which I hate. I know I'm where I'm supposed to be, and I absolutely love Little Rock (believe it or not!), but it's never going to be easy to be away from them. I am always having to remind myself that they're not THAT far away... too far to have lunch with any given day... too far to go to my niece's dance recital at a moments notice... but not too far for a weekend visit.

Here's the thing: I don't see myself living there. Maybe, big fat maybe, back in DFW someday... but..I don't know.

I get panicky when I think about having kids and being away from all of them... but I have to remember: five years ago I had no idea I would be here... and I don't exactly know where I'll be five years from now. It's the comfort I have when this sort of panic comes up. I've never taken such comfort in the unknown.

I guess it's been kind of an exhausting three days - trying to digest the emotions... but I'm looking forward to tomorrow.

PS - this is not to say that my visit with my family and friends while I was in town wasn't great - because it was. I loved every second of spending time with them. Disclaimer complete.

I LOVE LAMP

My childhood was magic.

Each birthday... every Christmas... Easter...Thanksgiving... even Valentine's Day was extra special and there was always something - an excitement - in the air in the Carlile house during these times. I understand how cheesy that may sound, but it's true.

I hope I can make that kind of atmosphere for our children someday.

There was one Christmas... while I was a teenager and Leanna was still pretty young, that my mom had gone back to work (for the first time since I was a little nugget... ) and things maybe weren't going as planned (financially) This is all assumption because I was completely oblivious to whatever their status was - this is all in hindsight... I remember Momma got upset (sad) after Christmas morning because she thought Leanna and I were... underwhelmed with the whole morning experience.

I must have been a terrible brat to make her think that! However, I never remember being disappointed or let down or anything but excited on those mornings - and it wasn't because of what I GOT - it was because of the love and the way my parents made every thing... each event... feel so significant.

Now don't get me wrong, I was 100% spoiled and didn't want for anything growing up, but it breaks my heart to think that I ever made either of my parents think they were doing anything except for surprising Leanna and me. They constantly made even the most normal day seem important... worth it... specific.  We were very happy little girls. Today we're very happy big girls.

As an adult I can recognize the care and attention to detail they spent making those memories what they are for me. Gosh... if anything was ever wrong, they totally had me fooled. Fooled isn't the right word: they always showed me the good. In everything. In most people, too. I didn't know any different (CAN WE PLEASE GO BACK TO THAT....... PLEASE?! ha).

They really did make it seem simple and natural... and EASY. And... maybe it was, for them - but I don't know that it will be for me. I'm going to do my best to give that enchanting element to my kids.

This didn't come out of nowhere :)

I went to East Texas this weekend to visit my parents and sister. We celebrated my birthday and had some fun family time - I even got to see a couple of friends while I was there. It's always so hard to fit everyone I want to see into a little teeny tiny weekend... someone always gets left out... and I always feel bad about it - but I hate to be rushed.

Anyways, I spent the night with my sister in her apartment Friday night - and didn't get to my parents house until Saturday around noon. As soon as I walked in my mom handed me a gift. It was a cookbook. A cookbook that 45 minutes before that I ALMOST bought for myself. My momma reads my mind.

Next I turned to the living room... where Daddy is sitting in his recliner (as expected) and there it is.

The lamp that I had "liked" on Facebook two days before. (a friend back in ETex just opened a super cute store... and she posted a photo of the lamp).

I said "I LOVE YOUR LAMP!"

He turned it around and there was a little sign on it that said "Happy Birthday, Love Daddy"

How sweet is that?

I'm 26 years old and my parents still surprise me in that way.