In a few hours, I’ll be on a plane back to Chicago. I’ll get to see family and friends, visit my old stomping grounds around the city, and eat all the food that doesn’t exist in sunny California.
Yet, my feelings are a bit mixed.
Don’t get me wrong; I love going back to my hometown. I can’t wait to hug my mom, converse with my older sister about life, spend a little time with my grandma, and hold my firstborn nephew upside down by his feet.
Plus, the allure of Chicago is reason enough to visit: the impeccable architecture, the thriving arts culture, world-class museums, and the food that is often imitated but rarely duplicated well.
I will always be a Chicagoan. Yet, I’ve come to the realization that Chicago is no longer my home.
Every time I visit, something is different. It could be an internal thing, as I have lived in LA for over 6 years. It could be the fact that gentrification has completely altered several neighborhoods throughout the city. It could be the fact that I didn’t really become an adult until I left. It could be the fact that I’ve grown as a person, but some of my peers an family members never did.
They say home is where the heart is and I agree to a certain extent, because certainly pieces of my heart can be found all over Chicago. Yet, despite it’s weirdness and my reluctance to relocate there in the first place, Los Angeles possesses a big chunk of my heart as well: my career is here, most of my friends are here, and I’ve come to adore this big ball of crazy.
LA is an idiot… but it’s my idiot.
Nevertheless, I’m going to get on that plane and fly back “home” for Christmas, have fun with my family and friends, eat like a 400 lb linebacker, and enjoy every second of nostalgia that I get.
I feel the same way. After a few days in Chicago I’m ready to come back to MS. Now nearing retirement, I want to head west, New Mexico, Utah, Arizona or Oregon. Time to leave Mississippi!