A weekend at home on Long Island, with best friends and my favorite dog, brightened my winter, entirely.
There's just too much to be said about what it means to really, go home again. I've gone through phases of running home every time something failed, I felt heart broken, or better yet - needed money, to do laundry, eat a meal cooked by my grandma, or watch Lifetime movies with my mom and sister. How many times I've gone home to find exactly whatever it was that I'd been so obviously looking for. Myself. Now,
medias res. My most endearing challenge of finding the balance; time is something you make, not something you find, that we already know. Still, going home doesn't happen nearly as often as it should. And somehow, through the years, the trip seemed to feel longer and I became resistant to the real. Whenever I would go home, all of my city- acquired distraction, followed. Now, I don't mind the quiet and want more time to soak it all in. My sister is an adult, who will and should, tell me to f-ck off, when it's due. Every time she picks me up from the train station, she beams and I can feel how bold she's really become. Then, there's my mom; superwoman. Home,
where your heart is, after all.
Love Me Denim Jacket
Take Me Home Stadium Jacket