leaving home to return to school was honestly a little hard. a close friend recently posted how
home is where you are--mentally. physical presence doesn't constitute a home, per se. With her perspective in mind, I realized that I have several homes, and that doesn't mean any one competes with the others for specialness points. One home is Vernal. One is Canyon Terrace in Provo. One is St. George. One was CT#29. One was The Colony. One was a little village, Lugazi Nekazade, in Africa. My heart is spread out.
Clothing was rolled into my new carry-on suitcase, books&trinkets were boxed up for the return journey from Vernal to BYU. I ached to stay. I love my Provo home, but being in Vernal was bliss. Literally, a complete break from responsibility. Perhaps I'm a slacker. I hope not. I toiled (now
that is a legit word) for four months, and I felt deserving of a two week break.
As dad & I (who, btw, were travelling in style with a huge-mongo camping trailer behind us) entered Provo Canyon, my heartbeat increased. I'm
coming home. We passed Riverwoods, the fake tree, then the stadium. Pulling in front of Canyon Terrace was the glorious return I cherish. It's magical here. Putting my key into the door and unlocking
my apartment is such a grown-up feeling. It's mine. I pay for it. I love it. Not five minutes after arriving, I was talking and laughing with people from the complex. Yes, coming home indeed.
leaving home to return to school was honestly a little hard. a close friend recently posted how home is where you are--mentally. physical presence doesn't constitute a home, per se. With her perspective in mind, I realized that I have several homes, and that doesn't mean any one competes with the others for specialness points. One home is Vernal. One is Canyon Terrace in Provo. One is St. George. One was CT#29. One was The Colony. One was a little village, Lugazi Nekazade, in Africa. My heart is spread out. 
Clothing was rolled into my new carry-on suitcase, books&trinkets were boxed up for the return journey from Vernal to BYU. I ached to stay. I love my Provo home, but being in Vernal was bliss. Literally, a complete break from responsibility. Perhaps I'm a slacker. I hope not. I toiled (now that is a legit word) for four months, and I felt deserving of a two week break. 
As dad & I (who, btw, were travelling in style with a huge-mongo camping trailer behind us) entered Provo Canyon, my heartbeat increased. I'm coming home. We passed Riverwoods, the fake tree, then the stadium. Pulling in front of Canyon Terrace was the glorious return I cherish. It's magical here. Putting my key into the door and unlocking my apartment is such a grown-up feeling. It's mine. I pay for it. I love it. Not five minutes after arriving, I was talking and laughing with people from the complex. Yes, coming home indeed.
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