Yes, I've been back from spring break for a week and a half already, but I've been thinking about my family a lot and how important they are to me. People have a lot of reasons for going to California for spring break. I have exactly three: Jeff, Sarah, and Adam.
Even though I spent a few nights on a couch and countless hours in a mini-van in the rain, it was well worth it. I realized once I was back at school that if I hadn't gone to California for break I don't know when I would have seen them. I'm a poor college student and they are in grad school with a kid. None of us really have the means to state-hop often. I also got to see my mom and talk her ear off on the plane ride from Salt Lake to San Jose (after accidentally getting on a plane to Long Beach--the adventures started early). We saw the Hearst Castle, Cannery Row, Hollywood, ate at Bubba Gump's, and even had to turn back when we came upon a highway destroyed by a mudslide. And of course played Settlers of Catan. It was purely lovely. All of it. And I already miss them.
The one downside was that I didn't get to see my dad. He called me the day I got back to school with some sad news and I've talked to him at least twice since and although this is far more than average, it's been really nice. And I know that more than anything he needs family right now.
His side of the family has been gathering, for less than favorable reasons, but it makes me want to be home even more. I want to hug my grandma, chase my eight year old twin cousins, eat the take-out my uncle brings back, and try to get attention from my dog as she stalks grandma around the house. I want to sit on the orangey-red carpet with my back against the couch as everyone talks, laughs, and cries. I want to re-stack the books on the too full bookcases and dust off the graduation pictures of my dad and his siblings. This isn't my home, but in a way it is.
My grandparents moved into this house when my dad was a little boy. They got new carpet in the seventies. I know all of the little trinkets and toys and the blue-green shag carpet in the "Memory Room"--it was my favorite place to stay when I was little.
The memories from this house are usually pretty similar, but I guess that's what makes it feel like part of home. When I think of home I first think of my family, my dog, and my house, but the next image is almost always one of my grandma's family room with the suit of armor and the whole family ready to greet whoever comes in next.
I want it to be me.
I guess this post didn't really end up being about California. But it never really was. It's the people. The people who make long car rides and KFC chicken better. The people who are family and home.
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