Tea, Tourists, and Two Words Apart.

Sigh.

My mom and Alissa just left this morning. Right now they're probably meandering through Chicago O'Hare, looking for some tea. And here I am, on my couch, tucked in this quilt, with my tea. We're far apart again, and it makes me a little achey. Even so. It's right.

Mom and Lou got in late Thursday night and the three of us were quite the riot during the drive to my little place on campus. Well, at least we thought we were funny. We laughed about nothing and everything and mostly at Alissa's funny saying and questions and tired fits. Once we were all sleepily in bed, I let out a little squeak of giddiness and kicked my feet in the sheets that way I do when I'm excited about the morning. I said, "I can't believe you're here. And tomorrow, we'll go to Boston." Mom replied, "That sounds great," and was soon asleep.

We did. We went to Boston. We did a little walking, a little trolly tour, and then got dinner on the way home. It was fine … but just fine. The tour was fun. The city was beautiful. And conversation, as always passed among us three, was hysterical. But the thing is, Boston isn't really my city. It's a city I live close to. It's a city I really like. But it isn't my city. When the day was done, we sat around my room with teacups in hand and talked about life and I asked my mom some of the questions I've never thought to. Like, how did Daddy ask her out? Did they go on any funny dates? When did you know you wanted to marry him? What was it like going from working woman to stay at home mommy? How was it putting your mother in a nursing home? What's it like getting older? So many questions, and she answered them all. But even now, i still have more.

Saturday was the day I was anticipating. I took mom and Lou to my two favorite little towns on the North Shore, Gloucester and Manchester. We ate at my current favorite breakfast place, Sugar Magnoia's, and walked around the quaint little coastal town. We went to the beaches and walked the autumnal paths and picked up rocks and sea shells they took home to the little ones. Mom made Alissa taste the sea water and made me lay in the wet sand for a picture. We walked into every cute little shop and mom made friends with the owner of each.

They met my friends.

They saw my "home".

They ate my food.

They slept in my bed.

The entire weekend, I was very aware that I was sharing my life with them. That can be a scary thing, you know? Each time I introduced them or opened a closet door or explained a piece of my life I knew it was being analyzed and asked about. All with love, I assure you. But it's a vulnerable place nonetheless. But it's a good place, too. Don't doubt that.

This morning was a whirlwind. We left early and quickly. I dropped them at the airport, gave hugs and got back in my Jeep. About five minutes in my eyes were wet. You know, I just really love them. And they love me. Not always well. Not always practically. But with the best love we can, we love each other.

I'm coming away from this with two things.

One, I'm really proud of my life. Not in an arrogant, boastful way (well, maybe sometimes), but it's just that I really love it and I'm really happy in it. This life of mine, with these friends and places and tea shops and books is lovely. And I'm so grateful to call it mine and proud to show it to my mom and sis.

Two, I'm more me here than I have been anywhere else. I feel like I've become more fully myself in the last month than I did through the majority of my time in undergrad. I can't say what it is. I just know it's good. And, I just want to say, that I'm sincerely happy and really, authentically content here.

That's why it's right for me to be sipping tea here while they head back to Iowa. Because this is where I belong right now and for all it's quirky shops and silly baristas and terrible drivers, I'm making it home. And I think that's just pretty wonderful.