Earlier this week I returned home to Tallahassee, to my family. I think (I hope) the crisis that brought me here is almost over. But my time back home has made me question what I always thought to be true. I belong in Florida. This is my home and will always be.
Most of my young adult life I wanted nothing more than to escape. My family, the south, my past and all the expectations of folks who thought they knew me. My dream was to start over somewhere new, somewhere I could find my own path, create my own destiny.
But that didn’t happen they way I expected. None of my plans worked out the way I wanted. And it just seemed easier to be happy with what I had than fight for what I wanted.
Seven years ago when I was no longer seeking it, the opportunity finally came. I didn’t want it but not taking it wasn’t an option. So I found myself 2000 miles away alone in a place I had never even visited. And for the last 7 years I’ve been telling anyone who would listen, that any day now I would be going back to FL. AZ would be a temporary stay. An until about a year ago I honestly believed that, but now………
My last few trips home haven’t felt right? Something is missing, or maybe changed is a better word. It’s more than just time and people have moved on. It’s like the space that I used to fill no longer exists. And no matter how hard I try, I can’t rationalize it and I can’t find a way to make it work. Maybe home for me isn’t Florida anymore. I always said one day I would come back but now I’m not so sure. What would I be returning to? Who am I returning for?
I think my life journey is about to make another fork in the road sooner than I’m ready for. My instincts are telling me just to follow wherever the road takes me next. But I’m struggling with this. I don’t think my heart or head is ready to accept that yet.
I ❤️ Florida