Smitten with the Mitten

Dear beautiful, creative, courageous readership,

May I offer you my most sincere apologies for essentially disappearing for the 10 days without a word. I took an impromptu trip to Michigan (aka my parents' house) led by a craving for two flavors of ice cream native to the Great Lakes state: superman and Traverse City Cherry.

Before booking my flight, I had spent about 5 hours scouring the internet in hopes of encountering a company that could send these delicacies to my in Boston, but, alas, I found no such option. It turned out to be pretty good timing--my parents didn't have anything planned and I had some time off work and school--cha-ching! So I booked a flight. And I didn't bring my computer.

Visiting my parents/hometown/high school friends carries with it lukewarm nostalgia and the awkward anxiety you might feel watching a red, white, and blue lights flashing in your rearview mirror. I moved out when I was barely 18 and though I visit twice a year [Christmas and sometime in the summer] so to keep up on my 6-month dental visits I've realized it's been really difficult for my parents to keep up with how I'm changing and growing up." Thankfully, I'm a different person than I was when I left as well as halfway through college and even last summer, and it's challenging for my parents to assimilate that into their understanding of me as their daughter. That makes relationship hard for us both. We speak a different language. We want different things out of life. It's better now than it has really ever been but I doubt we will ever be any more than superficially close.

All the relationships are tough...yet I'm figuring out how to make them work. It's been 5 years since I moved out and, in that time, the longest time I've back was the 2 1/2weeks last August prior to the Boston move. This means I don't have many opportunities to see my Michigander friends and because I've always been one to choose quality over quantity ("quality time" is my #1 love language), lengthy one-on-one outings sprinkle my visits home instead of parties and bars and 'going to the game.' Some call it introversion. I call it intentionality.

So, I saw Jackie and Angela and my grandparents and Toni (and met her boyfriend, Lou). I cuddled with my parents' puppies, Rugby and Lance. I finally got to go up north and see the log cabin my uncle purchased in February. I saw my brother post-bar exam and he gave me a tour of his new digs in downtown Detroit. And, of course, I ate ice cream at least once a day.

And in return for me gracing the state with my presence, Michigan unleashed the mosquitos specifically craving my blood. Worth it.

Friends, that is the reason behind my absence from the interwebs. Next time, I promise that I will tell you in advance.