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Home for the Holidays

This year for the holidays, my family and I stayed in the town where we live. I still have trouble calling it MY town. Moving across the country definitely teaches you something about yourself, but it does not automatically mean you will feel home. The process of feeling at home when everyone you’re related to lives a thousand miles away is hard, and apparently can take years. One that I have been denying for five years. I will put it in writing for everyone to see: I live in Illinois, Southern Illinois, Southwest Illinois - I think people are very specific here.


I remember taking the exit to Edwardsville/Glen Carbon for the first-time years ago and coming to a very popular intersection that I now pass weekly.  I remember thinking, "Well the intersections and gas stations look the same, that is a good sign." But the familiarity of the roads was no indication of the changes to come.


Moving across the country has changed a lot about me. For one, I know I can do it, and that being a Texan doesn’t define me in any way. Nor do my clothes, though I am now the proud owner of 24 thick sweaters. (This is not a guess - I actually counted).


So, what is a south Texas transfer with a December birthday going to do? Cry because it’s so cold and I can’t wear my party dresses! Or I could criss cross the country in search of warmer weather. Just kidding! I put on the most fabulous knit sweater I own and party on. To all the Northern and Midwestern people with winter birthdays - I get it now!





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