Coming Home

Let’s get something straight, kids: I am NOT a New Yorker. Granted the word on the street is that it takes living in the City for over a decade for the conversion process to complete, but regardless of how long I live here, I’ll always be a Southerner. And I have no qualms with that. Despite the myriad of reasons for my departure from the Homeland, the South will always have a special place in my heart. It’s where I come from. It’s played a vital role in shaping who I am.

Like the little bird I am, I’ll be flying South for the winter in two days. Here’s what I’m looking forward to:

• My mother awaiting me a Hartsfield International Airport with a large Chick-Fil-A sweet tea and chicken biscuit. Hallelujah.
• Oh yeah, seeing my mother and sister.
• Many a Starbucks catch up coffee date with friends I haven’t seen in months – people that I love, trust and admire
• Meeting my family’s new addition: Roman, the dog
• Taco Mac
• My Pathfinder and the ability to drive. I cannot WAIT to get into my banged up black SUV, crank the heat on high, and drive for hours with the windows down… sans incessant honking.
• A day trip to Athens, Georgia and being re-acquainted with my beloved college town
• Peacoats instead of black, calf-length North Face puffer jackets
• Wrap-around front porches
• GA-400 traffic (Odd, I know…)
• The smell of my mother’s house, the one in which I lived since I was three years old
• $4 packs of Marlboro 27s
• Some damn Southern Hospitality
• Food that isn’t take-out
• Re-visiting the stars in the night sky, open space and silence on my grandparents farm in North Carolina