Is it weird that within a day I feel right back at home in my old bed from high school and having my mom make me coffee in the morning? It's like I never left. Sure, my room has been rearranged, I haven't lived here for four years, and my baby brother is off at college (all details that force me to realize I'm no longer 17), but it somehow feels like nothing has changed.
I feel so lucky to have a place to go home to that will always feel like home. Unlike many of my friends, I was born and raised in Sarasota. My family has been in the same house almost my entire life, and they have no thoughts of leaving this beautiful city any time soon (as far as I know). It's so sad to me when families move away and my old friends no longer have their home here to come back to. I can't imagine spending Thanksgiving anywhere but here, or going somewhere for Christmas that I can't spend the day at the beach because it's 70 degrees in December.
It's just nice to know that no matter what I'm doing, no matter where I'm living, home and all the emotions that come with it are only a plane ride away.
(PS - While I'm raving about being home, I have to give a little shout out to Siesta Key, which was featured in the New York Times "Escapes" Section yesterday, including pictures from an old friend of mine!)