The part that homesickness leaves out.
When i lived in Nashville and I couldn’t come home to be with my family for Thanksgiving, I used to cry and think about how much I wanted to move home.
Home. You know. The place where I grew up, felt stuck, moved away from, and came running back to. Home. The teeny little towns tucked away between hills and lakes. Back roads, clear nights, and Sunday dinners.
And, lest I forget:
Driving in the winter. That is the part that homesickness conveniently left out. This is what I got to do for an hour in the morning today. Also, not pictured? The hour I did it tonight, when it was dark.