Grateful

Thanksgiving has come and gone, and I am officially blown away by how truly, amazingly, wonderfully blessed I am.

I got to go home and see my family, who support and love me no matter what kind of shenanigans I get myself into, who welcomed my boyfriend with open arms, and who are some of the most incredible people I have ever known.

I got to enjoy the company of my baby cousins, who (Lord help me) at 16-almost-17 and 18 aren’t exactly babies any longer. I got to cuddle my dogs, wish my momma a happy birthday in person, and laugh with my dad as he swatted my hand away from the turkey before it made it to the table.

I got to see the very best friend I could possibly ask for. I got to hug him for the first time since early September and catch up before he flies back home to Texas.

But most of all, I got to spend three incredible days introducing the man I love to the people who make my heart sing. I am so incredibly grateful that I got to bring him into my world and show him exactly why I became the woman that I am.

I’m grateful for his patience, because meeting nearly 30 members of your girlfriend’s family all at once can’t possibly be easy. I’m grateful for his willingness to look me in the eye and tell me when I’m acting crazy. I’m grateful for his kindness and his hand to hold as I look to the future, finally a bit more certain about the direction I want to go (or at least who I want standing by my side).

Yes, being thankful for the perfect world I’ve found myself dropped into should happen more often than once a year. And yes, I should spend less time rushing through life and spend more time appreciating the innumerable blessings I have.

But this weekend reminded me of all I’ve been given. Yet again, I was shocked to see how things seem to, almost magically, work themselves out. Time and again I find myself floored by the events that are constantly unfolding around me, as if I’m only along for the ride until I realize that this amazing, fabulous, ridiculous, beautiful ride is actually the life I’ve been given to live.

I am deeply and powerfully thankful. For the things I have and the people who love me.

A Perfect Morning

Breakfast on Sunday mornings has become a ritual any time I’m at home. Even though today is technically Monday, it feels like Sunday around here, so this morning was no different.

Usually, I wake to the smell of bacon frying downstairs. Through all the closed doors, up the stairs, and down the hall, it breaks through my deepest of sleeps and slowly brings me to consciousness. Even though I want to rush down and eat, I usually linger in bed. Somehow, I always sleep better in my childhood bedroom. The room is brighter than the one I have now, the sun always streaming through the thin shades, but it’s rarely the thing to wake me.

Today there was no bacon on the stove, but there were homemade cinnamon rolls–apple cinnamon to be exact. Baked months before, I had brought them home where they have lived in our freezer until my mother decided today was the day to have them. So we baked them up, filling the kitchen with a strong sense of home.

The four of us ate together. My mom, dad, brother, and me, all gathered in the eat-in kitchen, sharing the start of our day. My baby brother, still away at college, was the only missing piece.

And we lingered there. Sure, my brother went back to bed, my dad was in and out as he put away the bits and pieces still left from last night’s Labor Day party. But my mother and I are still here, talking and laughing as I try and teach her how to put pictures on her digital photo frame. I know I need to go pack. Find my things and start the process of leaving.

But it’s hard to shake the feeling that this is still my home. No matter how long I’ve been away at college or now living on my own in Indy, this is the place I long to return to. To sleep in that bed and sit at this table and be surrounded by those who are most important in my life.

Growing up means moving out and moving on. Finding your own place in this world and perhaps making due with only seeing the people you love once in a while. Which is why I cherish days like today. I’m not sure when this will happen again, so for now I’ll sit at this small table and listen to my parents playfully argue about how much food they cooked for our party last night as the dogs lay at my feet. I’ll soak it all in and try to fully appreciate everything I have.

I love this feeling, almost as much as I love this place.

My babies.

Family Matters

I am officially bouncing off the walls of my apartment right now. My family will be here in a few hours to spend a night in Indianapolis before we head to Sandusky, Ohio, for a few days at Cedar Point. It will be the first time our family of five has taken a vacation in ages. I am beyond pumped.

I love my family, and I love spending time with them. I could not be more excited to spend the next five days together, especially at a place like Cedar Point.

Family bonding and roller coasters. What could be better?

I’ll try and write while I’m gone, but I will definitely have pictures to share when I get back!