Going Home
Salut,
Happy New Year! The target audience for this blog is generally undefined, but the major readers are, I presume, usually family and friends back home. As such, considering this post is about me being home, it may feel like some retreaded ground. This is my 38th (!!) blog post; that’s crazy. For anyone who has traveled cross continentally, or even just flown across the Atlantic, you can relate to how difficult and agonizing it can be and just how exhausting it is.
When I first made the trip to Kyrgyzstan, I was alongside a ragtag group of people I barely knew anything about, but I was with people. Doing it alone is hard and mind-numbing. The route I took to get home, involved a drive to Jalal-Abad city, a 2-hour marshrutka to Osh city, a taxi to the airport, a 30-minute flight to Bishkek, a 7-hour night layover at the Bishkek airport, then a 5.5-hour flight to Istanbul, an 8-hour layover in that airport, and then a 13-hour flight to Houston, then a drive home. Coming back was only mildly easier.
The last two weeks have been in parts. The pre-wedding stuff, the wedding stuff, and then the post-wedding stuff. I am fortunate; the polar vortex and absurdly cold weather front hitting much of the seaboard and east coast and south was avoided by Houston. My host mom and sister-in-law gave me some last-minute presents to pass on to my family back home. My suitcase was brimming with wedding gifts and friend gifts.
In the Bishkek airport, I spent the night there, as my flight was at 3 in the morning; I arrived early evening into Bishkek to ensure time for any potential problems, delays, or cancellations. Most airports, particularly big ones, don’t lose steam into the night, on the contrary, some airports are full of life at midnight. Not Bishkek at least. At 11 PM, the international travelers' wing fell deathly silent, only the sound of the janitorial staff and their vacuums revving. I hid in the corner with my bags, too early for check-in. When check-in finally happened, a swarm of people arrived at 1 AM at the front counter. I managed a spot near the front of the line, but people kept pushing in front of me, throwing their passports onto the check-in lady’s desk that I ended up waiting over an hour to actually check in, constantly pushed by families past my lonesome self.
Unusually, it was a swarm of who I suspect were Dungan people, as they were speaking a language with vague Sino-Tibetan sounds, like Mandarin, but definitely not Mandarin, with a few Russian words mixed in. On both my long flights, I ended up seated in the aisles, thank goodness, but both had passengers next to me with limited English, so I had to translate for the flight attendants, who mostly spoke English and Turkish. On the second flight, I was seated next to a French-speaking woman and an Iranian lady, the latter a bit too close for comfort. I have enormous difficulty sleeping on planes, the uprightness weighing down on my neck, yet I’m a small person, so I’m privileged I can fit mildly well into economy seats.
How did it feel to actually go home? Surreal, to say the least. The feeling of being in Istanbul and actually hearing so many conversations in English by tourists and other Americans or Westerners. It felt slow, a slow creeping feeling of familiarity, of things once recognizable coming back into focus. Being able to throw toilet paper in the toilet with ease. Being able to readily and easily drink cold drinks without someone telling you you’re going to die. The easability at which driving came back into focus while home, like relearning to ride a bike. Being able to speak openly in English and knowing everyone, or most at least, can understand you.
My sister, her then-fiance, Adam, and my mom, all came to pick me up, Adam being at the wheel. He’s adopted Elise and my shared car as his own. I asked to get Chick-fil-A on the way home, it being my first meal back home, and it was truly worth it. We celebrated Christmas 2.0. A long tradition in my family has been that we all open gifts together, arranging them in piles in our living room, each family member getting their corner of the room to themselves. We play Christmas music on loudspeakers, and we prepare cinnamon rolls to eat, drinking hot chocolate and coffee. My mom and Elise had celebrated before, but it was New Year’s Eve, so we celebrated again. I got a pair of AirPods, which I had sworn off using ages ago, convinced I was too ADHD and would lose them easily. My mom said they’re a game changer, and they are, super relaxing to use on the plane home. I got Adam a kalpak and a mini yurt.
Adam and Elise went to Houston to watch the Texas Bowl, which Baylor lost. Speaking of Baylor, Baylor is my sister and her now husband’s university where they attend, so her wedding was a Baylor love fest, and you’ll hear me mention it off-handedly. No love for UT anywhere, which is a huge shame. My mom and I went to AMC to see Wicked in theaters which was super fun. We celebrated New Year’s Eve with my grandparents, who prepared a lovely array of appetizers for a light dinner. My mom and sister prepared Adam, telling him I would force him to play card games with me, which I did. My grandparents weren’t amazing at the card games, but they played them with enthusiasm.
On the 2nd, I brought Byron and Macy ice skating. Both are old college friends of mine, with Macy by happenstance visiting the Woodlands to house/cat sit. Both were quite good ice skaters, it being Byron’s first time. We ate at the Cheesecake Factory together, where I had a very strong margarita. I wasn’t of legal age when I first came to Kyrgyzstan, so being back home meant my first time out at restaurants and bars where I could order.
In the evening, Adam, Elise, my mom, and I all went to eat Mexican food. Adam’s family flew in from California for the wedding. Adam’s brother tricked Adam into believing that they had been delayed due to an unruly, drunk passenger. My new sister-in-law informed me of his ruse, that in fact it had all been just technical plane issues, and that Adam had been spreading misinformation to all of us.
After New Year’s Eve, wedding prep swung into high gear, and I spent most of the 1st-3rd helping them prep (and losing to Elise at Super Smash Bros on Adam’s Nintendo Switch). Elise is nothing if not coordinated and organized, as is Adam. Alongside my mom and Christmas music wafting through the living room, we dried and cleaned napkins, and tablecloths, organized table settings, and counted candles, cutlery, and decor all into plastic bins. Our dining room and foyer were awash of wedding things for many days and Ground Zero. We also printed and folded ceremony programs, and I got a special shout-out as having traveled the farthest.
Adam’s family and extended family friends all stayed a bit farther downtown, and for the bachelor and bachelorette parties, both parties rented out Airbnbs for the groomsmen and bridesmaids. I packed my bags and joined the bridesmaids, a few of whom flew in, and a few others who drove from Waco. All the festivities happened near the Woodlands area, but the wedding itself was out in Plantersville, a small “city” of less than 500 people. For the bachelorette, the Maid of Honor, Elise’s college friend Jenna, brought in a large bag of balloons for us to blow up (her friend Kate and I made a balloon arch).
We went to Painting With a Twist, which contrary to its name, there’s no twist. It’s just a painting class. We all painted cacti and a mountain landscape, though Elise being the only artist among us, naturally out-painted all of us. Then, we went to Hughes Landing, a large restaurant strip near the center of the city for dinner with all the bridesmaids. It was fairly low-key, though one of the bridesmaids briefly passed out. Adam and Elise aced the Newlywed game, and we played Just Dance, which was a lot more tiresome than I thought it would be.
The groom’s family was in charge of activities on the 4th. The mother-of-the-groom, Heather, and Grace, my new SIL (yes there are two of us..) hosted a large ladies' luncheon for all the women in the wedding party, including family and family friends on both sides. Pineapple mimosas are the new best thing. The ladies' luncheon was a hit. My grandmother, called Nana by me and my sisters, came to the luncheon, decked out in sequins and a very Nana outfit. She entranced all the bridesmaids with her stories, often embarrassing ones, about Elise and me. After the luncheon, all the bridesmaids sang her praises, even offering that she should give a speech at open mic night.
The rehearsal dinner also went off without any hitches. I’ve never been to a normal rehearsal dinner, but the coordinator they hired only did day-of rehearsals, so the rehearsal dinner was no rehearsal at all, just a large dinner with family, family friends, and the wedding party (groomsmen and bridesmaids). Beer and salmon were had and the open mic was had. I wasn’t assigned to give a speech at the wedding, so I gave one at the rehearsal dinner. Adam’s side largely out-numbered Elise’s, our family in Houston being on the smaller side. But with the bridesmaids, there was just as much love.
During the festivities, one of the bridesmaids had a family emergency and needed to leave immediately. One of the bridesmaid’s best friends, and a mutual friend of my sister’s, came to the rescue, already on her way to help with preparations. I want to shout out to her, Anna, for getting off a 12-hour nursing shift in Waco at 7 PM, driving 2.5 hours to the Woodlands, and then immediately agreeing to stand in as a bridesmaid the next day, borrowing the dress the other left behind, which needed several clothespins, and an extra pair of heels I had.
The day of the wedding was long, but luckily without problems or chaos. It started early, with many many cars piling into our home driveway to load snacks, water coolers brimming with soda, decorative signs, table settings, and bins, in addition to dresses, suits, flowers, desserts, anything and everything. I think we filled at least five cars. We got to the venue at 10, and it was raining cats and dogs. We unloaded cars in pouring rain, and we were all praying on hands and knees by the time the ceremony started, it would clear. We did a brief rehearsal with the coordinator before all hands were on deck, mad rush to set all the tables and decorate the reception. It was a dry wedding, but the bar section was outfitted with tons of water and soda (and even a coffee cart came to serve special edition coffee drinks especially designed by the bride and groom?? Too bad I don’t like iced coffee).
Perhaps my favorite and the most original idea from the wedding, which I would steal for my own should I ever get married, was their guest book. Adam’s family owns a mail store, and so they brought a plastic mailbox, which they set on a table. Elise bought national park and other artsy postcards, and for anyone wishing to leave well wishes, they could choose a postcard, write their notes, then leave it in the mailbox.
The venue had an adorable bridal suite for the bridesmaids to dress in, and the photographers showed up in the afternoon. Kate and I are similar in our usual no makeup, staying ten feet from a curling iron or straightener. Avoiding regular curls, I did myself a Dutch braid. Jenna and my mom helped Elise into her wedding dress, and we had a bridesmaid reveal (I’d seen photos of her dress before), but her dress was gorgeous. Amidst all this, the groomsmen were hanging around. I’d heard through the grapevine that Adam hadn’t slept the morning of and had an upset stomach (and got some Tums provided by my mother) and was nervous all day. So when it came time to pray, the bridesmaids prayed for Adam and his stomach.
At 3 when the ceremony started, the sun finally shone, the clouds mostly gone, our manifesting having worked. I walked down the aisle alongside one of the groomsmen into the chapel hall. My sister always said if she wanted to get married, she wanted to do it in a chapel. My grandfather walked her down the aisle, and Adam definitely cried. The ceremony itself was quite short. I later showed my students some photos from the wedding, and they, all being immature kids, giggled when I showed them the picture of Adam dipping Elise in a kiss. It lasted less than 30 minutes, and then all the guests shuffled into the reception hall, while family and the wedding party all took a million photos with the photographers. Despite the sun being out, it was quite chilly, especially for the bridesmaids, all in spaghetti or thin strapped dresses, and the men ducked out in suits. Initially, we all agreed to wait outside during the coffee hour before the reception, as the wedding party had to make an entrance with the newlyweds, but we gave up within thirty minutes due to the cold.
The reception itself was lovely. Adam and Elise had their first dance, which I had seen them practice in our living room several times. The DJ introduced the wedding party and newlyweds with a thick Scottish accent, but he was a good DJ. I sat alongside my family, including my cousins who drove in from inner Houston, and my younger sister who also drove in herself. It couldn’t be Texas unless the catering was brisket, served alongside some Turkey, baked beans, roasted vegetables, etc. The speeches, led by the maid of honor and best man, were heart-warming and sweet, too.
The couple left around 9. They kicked us out for privacy for their last dance, which relegated us outside to the freezing cold (it was like 40 degrees Fahrenheit at 9 PM and I was still in my spaghetti strap bridesmaid dress). But then they came and departed, off to their honeymoon in Hawaii. My family has somehow never been to Hawaii, but the groom’s has several times, so it was a tad familiar ground.
After they left, it was all hands on deck, as Elise described, Cinderella home by midnight hustle, as the venue did indeed close down at midnight. I felt authoritative throughout the decorating and cleaning up, as having spent the few days helping, I mostly knew her vision and could advise the groomsmen and other guests who were helping on how to set up the tables (the groomsmen even said to get bridesmaid approval). In addition, because it was all going back to my family’s house anyway, I could tell them to, carefully, but indiscriminately pack everything away, and we would sort it all out at home. Adam’s extended family, the ladies in particular, were super helpful in packing everything away, which meant we were out by around 10:30/10:45 PM.
My mom and I were the last two at the venue, and we packed all the cars to send back to our house to unload. In all the hubbub, my mom’s phone got put in someone else’s car. I had to drive Elise’s car home, and my mom had to drive hers. I called one of the bridesmaids, who fortunately had it, and because this was out on country roads, I had to drive out to meet her on the side of the road, my mom following behind me (without her phone) to collect her phone. Crisis averted. My first time driving in America in 1.5 years and it’s in Plantersville, Texas at 11 PM on dirt back roads.
After the wedding, I reserved in my schedule time to go visit more friends. I watched Squid Game season 2, ate some Torchys Tacos, and fervently packed my bags. I brought back quite a bit of clothing and other stuff from Kyrgyzstan, as I have SO much stuff in my room right now. Now, being back in Kyrgyzstan, I can reflect on how much I missed the food. I missed the breakfast food; all I eat here are leftovers, so being able to make myself eggs every day was so nice. Breakfast sausage sandwiches, hot pockets, etc. With the bridesmaids, we all ate Chick-fil-A breakfast, little chicken sandwiches which were delicious. Genuinely good Mexican food. Some things were missed, I never got the chance to eat Chilis. I missed my blue Powerade.
I visited Lulia, another of my college friends, who lives in Katy. We went to Memorial Mall to again go ice skating. Lulia is quite tall, so she struggles more with ice skating, as opposed to Macy and Byron who were slightly more adept. I had some damn good pizza in the food court. I am reminded of my Goodbye Tour when I first left, having individualized chats and outings with my friends before I left. In the nature of everyone being spread out, it’s what happened this time around too. My time with Lulia was fun, and we went out to Cafe Chopstix, a hilarious name my younger sister and mom did not believe was real, and played board games.
The day after, I drove into Austin to see Byron and Macy again. I was nervous about driving into Austin, as I’d never actually driven that route ever before (I have been driven by my mom many times, but never driven myself solo). Also, I had read some snow forecasts coming soon, and Texans never do well in snow. It is a running joke amongst us that when it snows even an inch, Texans freak out, cause major car crashes, and schools are canceled for a week. Anyway, it was a smooth drive, and I crashed at Byron’s, who was living with his partner. We all played Bananagrams and went to Kerby Lane cafe, an iconic restaurant in Austin (though not super local), and then later, Byron (as the DD) drove myself, Macy, and our old mutual friend Jackie, to the Domain, a mall strip where we went to a bar. Being abroad mostly, I had a very unrefined wine and drinking palette, which is something I hope to rectify. The night out was good, though it was quite cold. Quite cold for Texas, I might add, the weather was about the same, perhaps a bit warmer, than the weather at my village right now, but like I said, Texans cannot handle the cold.
The next day, Byron and I drove to the climbing gym/bouldering place his partner works at, and we all bouldered a bit. I used to go bouldering years ago, as an old friend got into rock climbing in the summer of 2021 and invited me along. I did it only on occasion, tagging along with friends. I did it once in Bishkek with Alex and Ben. I liked rock climbing and bouldering as a way to deal with, or at least cope with, my severe fear of heights. Afterward, we went to a food truck and got some 3$ tacos, which were also delicious. Man, I miss street tacos. I don’t miss expensively priced food, but I do miss good tacos. I drove back to Houston, this time to Sugarland, to visit my friend, Bhaavya, who recurring readers may remember who visited me here in Kyrgyzstan last summer. I sought to get ahead of the forthcoming rain storms, of which I was only mildly successful; I was out of Austin by the time the severe rainstorms hit. Visibility was fine on much of the road, but there were spots with significant grey clouds and limited visibility on the highway.
Bhaavya and I went out for ramen and just spent the night catching up before I left early the next morning to pack. I swung by a local Dollar General to get some last-minute stuff I needed, and then spent much of the day packing before my mom dropped me off at the airport. My mom followed the Google Maps route and ignored her intuition about getting onto the highway, staying on the feeder road, which was smart, and saved us, as on the way to the airport, a major car accident on I-45 developed, creating what seemed like mile-long traffic. We very very briefly had to enter the highway, but we were home free and made it safely to the airport. I read reports in the boarding area; apparently, an 18-wheeler, a box truck, and 3-5 cars were involved in a major accident, with the 18-wheeler crashed into the HOV lane and blocking a lane on the other side of the interstate, creating massive traffic on both sides. In addition, at least a hundred gallons of diesel spilled all over the road, creating an additional hazard, and amidst this traffic jam, another (and I think one other) car accident happened. The interstate got closed off on one side, and as we passed it briefly, I could make out the huge 18-wheeler and several ambulances and police cars. It looked to be awful and devastating, but Texas drivers really are awful.
The way back to Kyrgyzstan was just as painful as going, though because of the wind, the flight to Istanbul is shorter than the reverse (13 hours versus about 11). I am in awe of my luck at also getting placed in aisle seats on these flights. Time zone differences abound, and so like when I first came to Kyrgyzstan back in June 2023, I lost 2 days to travel. I mostly just read and slept on the planes, and due to sheer exhaustion, I slept straight through the flight from Bishkek to Osh and most of the ride to Jalal-Abad. I arrived at my home completely exhausted, but in tow with a bunch of extra Christmas candy which I deposited on the living room table, and the kids immediately all consumed. I brought the kids ring pops, and I think they liked the conceit of wearing it as a ring and sucking on it. Alihan’s mouth turned blue.
I brought some of the expensive chocolate truffles to my host parents, and my dad devoured the milk chocolate ones. My grandfather gave me Twizzlers, and I explained to the men that he usually ate Twizzlers in his car or while watching sports (ie Twizzlers are a man’s candy).
The week back at site has been relatively uneventful, and I had mostly been recovering from jetlag. When I first arrived in Kyrgyzstan, I had time in Ashu House to sleep and rest. My grandfather used to make business trips to Ho Chi Minh City, and he always looked exhausted before and after the trips. You lose days on those trips, and those who have made trips halfway around the world know the absolute physical exhaustion. Whenever I’m tired from traveling and I tell my host father, he always teases me and says “Why are you tired? You were sleeping all day, just sitting in a car, on your phone.”
An array of birthdays hit this past week. The volunteer, Ben, celebrated his 24th, on the 16th, my grandmother’s 81st was on the 17th, and Macy’s 23rd was on the 18th. I am sad I couldn’t be with the latter two on their birthdays, but I had been there before. We celebrated Ben’s by going bowling in Jalal-Abad city. Yes, there is bowling in Jalal-Abad city. We’ve passed by the large bowling sign in the center plaza, but we have just never gone in. Emily calls herself a “comically bad” bowler, though I’m not much better.
Home is home. It’s both a place and also people. The place is the familiar roads and the restaurants I’ve frequented so often. I’ve traveled far and often, and going home is always hard. But you build new homes in different places. It felt weird being home but also referring to Kyrgyzstan as my home because it is. It was hard to leave home again, to feel the familiar slowly start to become foreign again (but also somehow still familiar). To hear the English disappear, and to become reacquainted with hearing Kyrgyz everywhere. To come back to my home here, which really hadn’t all that changed. Alihan is still a little menace. Straddling seemingly different homes and to some, even different worlds, is never easy. Peace Corps work, despite on paper being in-school shorter hours than a regular 9-5, is difficult and taxing.
Home is where your family is at, and I have two. My mom told me before I left to never forget where my family is, that the home and family I left behind are quirky, but that they’re mine, always. My grandmother with her funny and embarrassing stories, my mother with her foster dogs and London mystery books, Julie with her Denny’s fast food, Elise with her acerbic wit, and my grandfather with his coarse laugh, and my cousins with their unruly hair and towering frames. Now, my family has grown, merged with another. Home is home.
À Bientôt,
Grace
The last two weeks have been in parts. The pre-wedding stuff, the wedding stuff, and then the post-wedding stuff. I am fortunate; the polar vortex and absurdly cold weather front hitting much of the seaboard and east coast and south was avoided by Houston. My host mom and sister-in-law gave me some last-minute presents to pass on to my family back home. My suitcase was brimming with wedding gifts and friend gifts.
Unusually, it was a swarm of who I suspect were Dungan people, as they were speaking a language with vague Sino-Tibetan sounds, like Mandarin, but definitely not Mandarin, with a few Russian words mixed in. On both my long flights, I ended up seated in the aisles, thank goodness, but both had passengers next to me with limited English, so I had to translate for the flight attendants, who mostly spoke English and Turkish. On the second flight, I was seated next to a French-speaking woman and an Iranian lady, the latter a bit too close for comfort. I have enormous difficulty sleeping on planes, the uprightness weighing down on my neck, yet I’m a small person, so I’m privileged I can fit mildly well into economy seats.
How did it feel to actually go home? Surreal, to say the least. The feeling of being in Istanbul and actually hearing so many conversations in English by tourists and other Americans or Westerners. It felt slow, a slow creeping feeling of familiarity, of things once recognizable coming back into focus. Being able to throw toilet paper in the toilet with ease. Being able to readily and easily drink cold drinks without someone telling you you’re going to die. The easability at which driving came back into focus while home, like relearning to ride a bike. Being able to speak openly in English and knowing everyone, or most at least, can understand you.
The couple left around 9. They kicked us out for privacy for their last dance, which relegated us outside to the freezing cold (it was like 40 degrees Fahrenheit at 9 PM and I was still in my spaghetti strap bridesmaid dress). But then they came and departed, off to their honeymoon in Hawaii. My family has somehow never been to Hawaii, but the groom’s has several times, so it was a tad familiar ground.
After the wedding, I reserved in my schedule time to go visit more friends. I watched Squid Game season 2, ate some Torchys Tacos, and fervently packed my bags. I brought back quite a bit of clothing and other stuff from Kyrgyzstan, as I have SO much stuff in my room right now. Now, being back in Kyrgyzstan, I can reflect on how much I missed the food. I missed the breakfast food; all I eat here are leftovers, so being able to make myself eggs every day was so nice. Breakfast sausage sandwiches, hot pockets, etc. With the bridesmaids, we all ate Chick-fil-A breakfast, little chicken sandwiches which were delicious. Genuinely good Mexican food. Some things were missed, I never got the chance to eat Chilis. I missed my blue Powerade.
The day after, I drove into Austin to see Byron and Macy again. I was nervous about driving into Austin, as I’d never actually driven that route ever before (I have been driven by my mom many times, but never driven myself solo). Also, I had read some snow forecasts coming soon, and Texans never do well in snow. It is a running joke amongst us that when it snows even an inch, Texans freak out, cause major car crashes, and schools are canceled for a week. Anyway, it was a smooth drive, and I crashed at Byron’s, who was living with his partner. We all played Bananagrams and went to Kerby Lane cafe, an iconic restaurant in Austin (though not super local), and then later, Byron (as the DD) drove myself, Macy, and our old mutual friend Jackie, to the Domain, a mall strip where we went to a bar. Being abroad mostly, I had a very unrefined wine and drinking palette, which is something I hope to rectify. The night out was good, though it was quite cold. Quite cold for Texas, I might add, the weather was about the same, perhaps a bit warmer, than the weather at my village right now, but like I said, Texans cannot handle the cold.
The next day, Byron and I drove to the climbing gym/bouldering place his partner works at, and we all bouldered a bit. I used to go bouldering years ago, as an old friend got into rock climbing in the summer of 2021 and invited me along. I did it only on occasion, tagging along with friends. I did it once in Bishkek with Alex and Ben. I liked rock climbing and bouldering as a way to deal with, or at least cope with, my severe fear of heights. Afterward, we went to a food truck and got some 3$ tacos, which were also delicious. Man, I miss street tacos. I don’t miss expensively priced food, but I do miss good tacos. I drove back to Houston, this time to Sugarland, to visit my friend, Bhaavya, who recurring readers may remember who visited me here in Kyrgyzstan last summer. I sought to get ahead of the forthcoming rain storms, of which I was only mildly successful; I was out of Austin by the time the severe rainstorms hit. Visibility was fine on much of the road, but there were spots with significant grey clouds and limited visibility on the highway.
I brought some of the expensive chocolate truffles to my host parents, and my dad devoured the milk chocolate ones. My grandfather gave me Twizzlers, and I explained to the men that he usually ate Twizzlers in his car or while watching sports (ie Twizzlers are a man’s candy).
Home is home. It’s both a place and also people. The place is the familiar roads and the restaurants I’ve frequented so often. I’ve traveled far and often, and going home is always hard. But you build new homes in different places. It felt weird being home but also referring to Kyrgyzstan as my home because it is. It was hard to leave home again, to feel the familiar slowly start to become foreign again (but also somehow still familiar). To hear the English disappear, and to become reacquainted with hearing Kyrgyz everywhere. To come back to my home here, which really hadn’t all that changed. Alihan is still a little menace. Straddling seemingly different homes and to some, even different worlds, is never easy. Peace Corps work, despite on paper being in-school shorter hours than a regular 9-5, is difficult and taxing.
Home is where your family is at, and I have two. My mom told me before I left to never forget where my family is, that the home and family I left behind are quirky, but that they’re mine, always. My grandmother with her funny and embarrassing stories, my mother with her foster dogs and London mystery books, Julie with her Denny’s fast food, Elise with her acerbic wit, and my grandfather with his coarse laugh, and my cousins with their unruly hair and towering frames. Now, my family has grown, merged with another. Home is home.
À Bientôt,
Grace
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