after work today I made the trek back home to meet up with the family and then head out on a ski trip. coming home is always the best feeling, that sudden sense of comfort that comes from being back at your place of childhood. even when I’m still driving I notice a subconscious sense of calm wash over me as I come past Easton on 270; I’m yet again back within my “home area”. returning is always different each time. I’m always a little bit different of a person and so are the people back home. yet returning is like slipping back on a favorite dress or pair of jeans: with no effort at all it fits just right. being back with my parents and my brother is all at once simple and cozy and loud and insane, and I cherish every minute of it. my family will always come first, they are my home. and to them I will always return.