I left my hooome in Georgia-a-aa-a

I was just reading through an old note I wrote saying how much I love Savannah and would love to call it my home, but there was always something holding me back last year…. something in the fact that my family was twelve hours away and my friends were scattered across the country, or maybe the issue was that my whole life fit into one small room in a complex of identical white-walled hotel-style boxes. It might’ve been the fact that I could put my feet up on the end of my bed while sitting at my desk to do homework and still be able to reach the fridge for a snack if I wanted. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still totally thankful for the opportunity I had to live there, and I know I can’t complain too much when there were fresh sandwiches and fancy Starbucks drinks and beautiful fountains right outside my door, but it felt a lot more like a fancy summer camp than an actual residence.

However, with this new year comes a new place to live and a new chance to make Savannah my home. In my condo I am quickly rediscovering all the benefits of a normal household: being able to open the door and choose which room to walk towards, do laundry without first digging through my purse for quarters and splitting my load across three machines, wash dishes in a different place than I brush my teeth, and buy a whole gallon of milk because it actually fits inside the normal-sized fridge now. I’m even enjoying all kinds of new perks that my childhood home lacked, like crushed ice and a jacuzzi bathtub – but those are just the little things. I now have someone to help curl my hair, to name the lizards that have somehow moved into our apartment, to communicate through our walls via morse code, to endure the pouring rain with me late at night as we run home together… someone to share this place I already just called home.

This morning I was awoken to the announcement that breakfast was ready and a delicious aroma that pulled me down to the kitchen where I was greeted by lovely smiles gathering around the dining table. I honestly cannot remember the last time that happened, even at the house I’ve lived in my whole life. If I had to pinpoint one moment to define the feeling of home, this morning would’ve been the one; but I am sure this was just one of many more that will soon come.

Here’s to the end of an extremely cheesy blog post and the beginning of a wonderful adventure.


P.S. if anyone feels like sending a housewarming gift, maybe an edible arrangement or two, Hannah and I will gladly accept any offerings…