I’m pretty sure I’ve said this before. But then again maybe not.
Living far away from my family just might be the hardest thing I’ve ever endured.
Sure, I’ve only been back home in Virginia for a little over 24 hours, so maybe the pain of “goodbye” is a little fresh, but what I do know is that it doesn’t get easier.
Years ago, when they left Virginia for California I had the opportunity to go with them. Fresh out of college and without a job, it would have been a fairly painless transition (as far as cross-country moves go). But I chose to stay, and I can’t say that I regret that decision. Today I find myself a more independent, self-confident woman because of that choice, but it doesn’t get easier.
The older I get, the more I miss the holidays, the traditions, the little moments.
As the years pass by, the more rapidly my sister grows up, and the more I realize how many of her little moments I miss.
So today it’s not about fashion or fluff. Today it’s a piece of me: my family. I’m so blessed to have them in my life yet the 2,000 plus miles between us weighs heavy on my heart.