Oh, my little lovelies, I haven’t forgotten about you.  I arrived back to Wisconsin late Friday night and haven’t had a chance to really sit down and update the blog.  (On a side note, I did have time to cruise through 5 DVR’ed programs.  I’m sorry if you think I put TV before you and I know that in order to make this relationship survive I need to refocus on my priorities and start putting you ahead of “16 and Pregnant” and “The Biggest Loser.”  But…it’s not going to be easy).

Florida was really nice.  80 degrees.  Sunny.  Beachy.  Pooly.  Sleeping In-ny.  Just really nice.

And I’ll go ahead and pretend I was big girl about coming home and leaving my family, but in reality I was that girl in the Fort Walton Beach airport who went through the security line and had the guard take one look at me and pull out a box of Kleenex.  I am a very unattractive crier, is all.

It really hit me on the flight from Fort Walton Beach to Dallas.  My brother Kyle and I were sharing a flight back to Dallas and would split there to go back to our final destinations.  I started crying as the plane touched down and Kyle, being a good brother, laughed at me and rolled his eyes because, even though we’re in our late 20’s now, I can still fill that role of painfully uncool sister.

Anyway, what hit me hardest was that we’re all grown up now.  Kyle lives out in Santa Fe, a place he pretty much picked out on a map and decided to drive to.  He went without a place to live, no initial job.  And he’s doing really well out there, being a little responsible person.  My little brother.  Crazy.

And I’m here in Wisconsin while my parents are living down in Florida.  If you ask anyone, they’ll tell you I’ve always been the bigger homebody between the two kids.  Everyone knew Kyle would be the traveler, the fearless one.  He decided to pick up and move to Alaska for a summer, for goodness sakes.  But I was always ‘ok’ to fill that role of comfortable, close-to-home kid.  And when my parents packed up and moved to Florida, leaving me a heartbroken little mess and the last of the Wisconsin residents, I had to muster up my tiny morsel of courage and put on a big, adult face.  Sometimes I still don’t feel like a grown-up.  But as long as I’m faking it, I usually manage to get by.  At least the bare necessities like groceries and shoes.

But it still strikes me as funny, from time to time, how family units change as we age.  And while I still feel a little heartsick when I think of watching early morning cartoons with Kyle as we ate breakfast and waited for the school bus, I know that my immediate family will soon change when I marry Tony and we start having children of our own.  I’m just thankful our family is close-knit in general and no matter how far away we are from each other, I can still call Kyle up anytime and know he’ll find someway to make fun of me long distance-style.  Ah, just like old times.

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