My life wasn't always as it seemed on the outside. Painted red lips, ripped up jeans, and dirty blond hair echos in my past but never defined me for who I am. Often times I find myself missing what I once called home. The bad days are the hardest. Those days when life gives me a full fist of shenanigans straight to the gut and I catch myself missing home. Well, I wouldn't call it home. Missing the place I grew up in. The place I lived, laughed, loved, and cried in. I remember the day this photo was taken. My 3 year attempt to find the meaning of life in San Diego was finished, I had needed to reconnect with my roots. With painted red lips, ripped up jeans, and dirty blond hair, this small town girl packed up her bags and left the big city to find a piece of her that what she had left behind. The drive back home from the airport was long but it gave me and my sister time to catch up. My mom had lost the trailer we grew up in (& the forsaken RV) and had moved into a new one a few miles out of town. For my sister it seemed like nothing had changed but for me the whole world seemed a bit different. We pulled into a trailer park on the outskirts of town. There were children running in and out of the spaces between the homes. The air smelled so fresh and familiar. We pulled up into the driveway of by far the worst looking one of them all. It was blue and setting up on large cinder blocks. You could see through all of the windows as the house had no curtains or blinds hanging from them, The house seemed empty. You could see pieces of the home hanging from underneath its structure, There was no steps to get into the lifted home. There was a wooden kitchen chair set in front of the door to climb into the house. My imagination wondered as I tried to picture my mother and all those kids carry in groceries on that wobbly chair. Its wasn't pretty, but its was what I was going to be calling home for the next few months, I got out of the car wondering if I had made the right decision in coming back when I looked up to see my little brother laughing and welcoming me home... mounted atop a rickety old rocking horse right outside the front door. He spoke with a redneck accent and asked in a joking manner if he could help me in the house. We all burst into laughter and made a game of getting into the house without breaking a leg. Every unsettling feeling and thought I had quickly left my mind and I was overwhelmed with joy and love, because I was home.
I cant say I miss the molded food on the kitchen counter, washing my hair with laundry soap, eating unlabeled mystery cans for dinner, bartering for tampons in high school, chilling winters, itchy scalps, washing the same pair of pants to wear to school everyday, bathtubs filled with food and water for the end of the world, drying off after a shower with a sheet, painting the walls blue with Cassy Knight (well I kinda miss that in a weird way), watching the tears jump off my face far too many times, or living in an RV with no water or power, but I can say that no matter what, there was always laughter in the house. You could always find a smile on a face, The incredible bond people share when living out hard times and facing life's challenges together is inestimable and unyeilding and for that I miss it.
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