Birthday Joy... and Longing

The homecoming keeps getting harder; rather, the home-leaving.

I have just rolled my suitcase down 30th Ave, crossing above the loud highway and rounding the corners past Dunkin' Donuts and Morris Funeral Home, after a wonderful birthday weekend in Kentucky, to enter Fort Knox. (My landlord has us sealed in here with a black steel gate, a black steel gated security door, two doors with knob locks, and two deadbolts - each with a different key.) Up the two flights of stairs, and a heavy sigh as I lug the suitcase inside and head to the bathroom for some tissue. I get an allergy induced cold every time I go home.

The bathroom is super stuffy. "Central Air" is a luxury I took for granted most of my life. (It amazes me that New York is the "capital of the world", yet in all of her advancements, home thermostats and washer/drier hook-ups were skipped right over.) My roommate, April, has left me a note saying that she left our one a/c window unit on 'low' so that at least the living room would be a little cooler.

I flop on the couch and close my eyes. I can't believe that I already took two flights today and am sitting on my couch by 11:30am. Going on only four hours sleep, I am a tired girl. And emotional.

I think about this weekend. Jerrod threw me a surprise cookout and I got to see some good friends I miss so much. My family played croquet and bocce ball for hours outside and my sister made me the most moist yellow cake (sans icing - my favorite). Before I came home, my roommates and co-workers took me to dinner and Japanese karoake. And the day before I left, Maggie surprised me with a day of Barbeque in Madison Square Park.

It was a wonderful birthday. And yet...

It just keeps getting harder!

I keep wondering if I'm making the right decisions. I am happiest with Jerrod in the room, even when he's being obscenely annoying. I don't like being alone all of the time. I miss his touches, his kisses, his loud laugh, his stubborn streak, his paper-rock-scissors-decision-making-tactics, his love. And I miss my family. Miss my dad's corny jokes and just love watching him laugh so hard that he can't control himself from slapping his knee. Miss my mom's cookin' -- fried porkchops, brown beans and cornbread, corn on the cob, steamed broccoli, and strawberry pie. Miss my brother and sister, too. Miss making them laugh and making them mad. Love sitting across from them at the dinner table.

I just thought that after eight months in New York, this would get easier.

I am on the verge of tears on the couch, so I decide that I should prepare for my audition today. I head to my room to unpack and upon opening the door, I gasp audibly. A HAPPY BIRTHDAY sign is taped on the wall above my bed and colorful helium balloons are tied to my dresser, bed, mirror, lamp, everwhere! On my bed (thank God I made it this time) sit birthday presents from my roommates. A pink Victoria's Secret box shines up at me, but even more delightful are the peanut butter cookies on either side. I open the tupperware and taste a bite of cookie immediately. (I am a bit of a peanut butter cookie snob. I admit it! I am not easy to please in this department.)

But these cookies are delicious! They are so moist and small, perfectly criss-crossed on the tops, golden brown. I pour myself a big glass of milk and have a few more. Each bite just makes me smile wider. These girls, these beautiful women, spent time on me. Took the time to make my homecoming, and birthday, something to smile about.

I lie back on my bed and feel happy. Then, I can't help but giggle out loud. My roommates call me the "Tall One" when they can't reach something in the cubbard. I notice, as I stare at the ceiling, that the lime green and baby pink streamers taped to it are twirled and criss-crossed quite festively, but only extend as wide and long as my bed. What a hoot! I can see them now, tip-toeing on my bed and reaching their little arms as far as they will go.

As I gulp down the rest of my milk, I still miss home. . . but I don't think I'll cry now.