Why I love going home

-Diversity.
-Over-grown beauty.
-Hip-hop and R&B on the radio.
-“God bless you.”
-Dancing in public.
-People picking me up.
-Friendly strangers striking up a conversation.
-Humidity.
-Simplicity – folks don’t try to complicate life.
-Open space.
-Farmers chatting on the side of the road.
-Real football.
-Festivals.
-The horizon.
-Thunder storms.
-Southern hospitality.
-The music scene isn’t a year and a half behind.
-Minimal traffic.
-No grid system – everyone just knows where things are.
-The obvious – my family and friends and pets and familiar stomping-ground.

There’s something to be said for going home and having nice chats with those individuals who had the greatest impact on my upbringing. I know I say this often, but my parents are smart. I have no idea how I’m supposed to be responsible for preparing children to face the world someday. How on earth did my parents give me the kind of knowledge, discernment, awareness, and desire to make good choices that allow me to survive this crazy life? How am I supposed to guide and foster healthy growth so my future children can be good citizens, have common sense, want to do what’s right, make something of their lives without too much trauma in the process, have a good perspective and decision-making skills, and everything else? I see so so so so many people that just don’t GET it, how am I supposed to help my not-yet-existent children avoid that? I know I am extremely far from perfect, but I feel like my parents did a great job of instilling good values, giving me a spine, teaching me how to take care of myself and be responsible, making sure I know how to THINK, and so many other things that are so difficult to teach...

I know, these imaginary children will be their own people with agency and brains and desires and personalities and all of that… there’s the whole nature and nurture theories and the fate of another is never entirely up to me…

But still. Parenting is intense.

Thanks, mom and dad, for not letting me turn out as a screw-up.