Home from Afar: Looking Back

I recently realized that I've been in Tennessee for over a year. Thinking about that prompted me to write this. (that and it's 5am, I'm at the library and am sick and tired of homework lol)

It's hard to believe that its been this long.
When I left home last fall, I remember boarding the greyhound bus, watching my parents slowly slip out of sight as the bus pulled away from the station, and wondering if I had made a mistake.
I remember the girl in the bus who told me she was going to New York City to live with her boyfriend and how her mom cried as the bus left the terminal.
I remember the eighteen hours I spent on those buses, and how I vowed to never ride another bus for that long again in my life.
I remember my first night in Tennessee. I was so homesick that night.

I remember living out in the country and I kid you not, working in the fields, following a tractor, so that I would have gas money to drive into town so as to go job-hunting.

I remember moving into town and sleeping on the floor of an empty house.

I remember sleeping out of my car.

I remember going from the floor of an empty house and my car to what can only be described as the exact opposite thanks to some of the most giving people I've ever met.

I remember moving to Memphis and unfortunately making a lot of decisions I regret.

I remember finally figuring out, that just because you can do it, doesn't mean you have to do it.

I hope I've matured since then. I know I'm a different person from when I left a year ago.

These days, I can't help but laugh when I call home and my entire conversation with my little brother consists of me repeatedly saying something and him yelling "whaaaat?? I can't hear you!" sometimes I find the easiest thing to say that we both understand is "I love you sammy. I miss you" And yeah, maybe I was being a little more emotional than usual considering the fact that I had barely slept the night before, but there's something especially special when your three yr-old sister tells you she loves you on her own initiative.

This is what being the oldest of twelve kids means to me. It's knowing that you have eleven pairs of eyes watching you, wondering what you're going to do in that next situation. It's knowing that most likely they're going to try and do the exact same thing when they're faced with similar odds. It's knowing that, yes, it's a responsibility, but it's also a blessing, because you have those eleven other people cheering for you to succeed because they love you and look up to you. It's calling home and getting off the phone three hours later after talking to eleven to twelve different people, answering all the same questions over and over, but not minding one bit. It's visiting your family for the first time since you left, seeing how much everyone's grown up, and realizing that you're missing out a little on their lives. It hurts. It's suddenly realizing that you aren't embarrassed anymore to be seen out in public with your family, because you now know what truly counts.

I could go on, but I'm sure you get the gist of what I'm trying to say. Never let go or forget the important things in life. For me, family is more important than almost anything else. I'm daily reminded of this as I go about life.

If you were to ask me to tell you something about myself, I'd probably point you here.

This is what I value.

This is home to me.