There are a lot of things I like about coming home. My bed, all warm and cozy in the haven of my dark, basement bedroom is one of the biggest. My dog, Harley, who I get to cuddle with. My cute little red car, Roxie. Not having to go to class or study or deal with people. And seeing my family, of course. Late night chats with my daddy and cooking dinner with Mama Dort.. all things I love about home.
And then, there’s what I think might be the most important one — Seeing my best friends. One of which, I’ve had an on and off friendship with since fourth grade, who I can’t really picture myself without. She’s been my best friend for as long as I can remember, or as I affectionately reference to her — my better half.
This past trip home, we did the usual. Made poor life choices when it came to healthy eating and spent too much time sitting up talking, but you know, that’s what defines our relationship. That no matter what, even if we haven’t talked in months, we can still tell each other everything. And there is no judgement, no condescending glares or talking about each other to someone else. There is just acceptance, comfort, guidance and advice.
Eighth grade. Art class. The two of us fighting, as seemed to be the norm in our high school days. And every day, one of us would say: “This is strictly for business purposes” — and proceed to gush the details of whatever was going on in our lives to the other. I know, I know. Maturity at its finest. But, regardless of the nature, this showed just how much we needed each other.
I remember distinctly the beginning of my freshman year of college. I ostracized myself from everyone at home, prepared to make my own name and be someone completely different. I hadn’t spoken to her in ages, probably close to a year, when I texted her one distraught Sunday afternoon, telling her about my life. She responded with some equally distressed messages. Its funny how, after almost a year apart, we would end up reunited.
Now we’ve been pretty loyal to one another since then. Not always in communication, yet knowing that no matter the time or how long its been since we’ve spoken, we are there for one another. She truly is my better half. Its just sort of painful to have the other part of you so far away.
So. yes, I think I love going home to hug my daddy and snuggle all night with my dog. But those nights when we stay out talking about everything until four in the morning, those are the nights I live for. That is the best part about coming home.