Holidays are always interesting because they always mean going home. My relationship with my family is complicated. In short, I think most of them are just afraid of me and what I can do. They think I’m some kind of colorful alien that’s going to disappear forever at any minute. …………………………………I am accepting it, and I refuse to use this blog as a vein for complaining about my family.
Coming home is always like returning to my past. Like coming back to high school. It’s strange because I go to school only 15 minutes away, it seems like I wouldn’t feel such a disconnection between two places so close together geographically. But . . .. I do. So much! Last night was my first night in my bed at home since I left for fall semester. Is that crazy?
I love seeing my sister and her kids. It’s almost scary how much little girls around 2-4 years old like me. I hadn’t seen my littlest niece, Caylee, in a few months. She’s so shy and hates everyone but her mother usually. But yesterday after being here for about an hour, I found myself being drug around playing with her toys, painting with her, making play do art, and she even wanted to sleep in my bed with me? My mother couldn’t stop taking pictures/being amazed.
PROBABLY BECAUSE SHE THINKS I’M A HEROIN ADDICT OR SOME SHIT.
One of my favorite things about Thanksgiving is that Christmas season begins almost instantly afterward. I’ve just downloaded How The Grinch Stole Christmas on audio. It’s perfect. I am listening to it & appreciating my new “Baking for Santa” candle.
Everything is perfect.