Vanilla Soy and Brie
I come home to my refrigerator, filled with my favorite things. My brie and vanilla soy milk and my whole foods pesto and my yellowtail Shiraz. Everything here is mine and part of a life that I’ve made for myself over the past four years. A life that I just happen to love.
It’s hard to admit this and forgive me for being sappy; but my friends here are my life. They know my flaws, even the little ones. They can tell me what I do every Saturday morning and that Sundays are my time to be alone. They don’t mind that I’m neurotic, obsessive, un-assuming and sometimes slightly pretentious. I tell them where I work and they are as proud of me as my own mother. I love that.
A few weeks ago in Albany, I went to a martini bar. After three martinis I wanted a glass of red wine and was picky that the only option was merlot (I’m no sommelier but merlot is crap). I got laughed and ridiculed of course, but I can’t help if I know what I like, and what I like is my Shiraz.
When I read Washingtonian magazine, I always smile, because it’s always when I realize how much I love it here and how much of my life is here. People keep telling me that I’ll eventually get some sense and move to New York. I always think about it for a minute then realize how much I wanted to be here in DC in the first place. And that even though there was a time when I would cry and beg my parents to turn around on the way back to DC, this is my new home.
Home is where you feel most comfortable and where you can be yourself. It’s where you’re surrounded by people who know you best and will let you be you. And even though I’m writing this now, by October I’ll need to go back to Albany to see the leaves, pick apples and drink apple cider, and I’ll write about that as well.
Because thinking about it will break your heart when you're not there; because home is wherever you feel you need to be.