The past few times I stepped out of the intensely air conditioned airport and out into the hot, wet air of the arrivals level, I felt suffocated. It was shocking and hard to breathe in more ways than one. The excitement of seeing my family would, for a moment, be lessened by the humidity attacking me from every angle.
Somehow I’d forget every time that it wasn’t going to be refreshing to step outside after being incapsulated for so long. My sticky skin, my inevitably stuffed sinuses and itchy, sleep-deprived eyes usually leave me hoping I don’t sound less excited than I am on the 90-minute drive home. Of course, I’m always happy to see them, but it’s not always easy hopping out of one life and back into another one that’s been going right along living without me this whole time. Sometimes it’s harder than I’d like to admit, but this time felt different. Instead of being assaulted by the warm air (and warm was a serious understatement this weekend), I felt welcomed by it. The hot air hugged me, welcomed me home, made me feel grateful and nostalgic.
Maybe it was because I finally got to eat honey mustard zingers from Ale House or because I just bought two new bikinis and I’d actually get to swim. Maybe it’s because for once I had the sense to secure a window seat and pop a sleeping pill before my red eye. Maybe it’s because I knew I was about to see some of my oldest friends—standing next to one while she married the love of her life, playing with another’s seven-month-old first born for my very first time, reintroducing another to my family after many years, and recognizing faces that have known me longer than anyone else.
Maybe it’s knowing that every person I’ve worried about on this coast is thriving, overcoming and absolutely crushing it right now, and I’m proud of us. We struggled for a while, and now there’s that group sense of relief when you’ve shared an experience and come out on the other side. The clean, clear energy in the room.
All culminating in a beautiful ceremony—everyone looking their best, feeling buzzed on champagne and the electricity of two people stupid in love. Decorations, festive feels, reunions and suddenly looking forward to the future—all of it. Not just the little bits sprinkled throughout, sparkling amongst the grey. The whole thing. The hard parts too. This time Florida felt friendly and familiar. I felt grown up and pretty and happy. It’s always great to be home, but it doesn’t always feel like home and this time it really did.
I’m not leaving California any time soon, friends. Don’t you worry. But it was really lovely to be in Florida this weekend. Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Parker. I’m so glad you two found each other and brought all of us together to celebrate your love.
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.