Can you really go home?

I went back to Texas a few weeks ago for a wedding. I didn't send out my usual "I'm coming home" email. I knew it would be a big family weekend. (Luckily you can always go home to family). I also knew most of my time would be taken up by all the wedding festivities. I was right. It was a lot of fun. The bride was a long-time family friend. My sister was a bridesmaid in the wedding, and the rest of my family was invited to participate in most of the wedding aspects. While I had no official role in the wedding, I designated myself the party-girl from NYC. From Friday through Sunday my family went to the pre-party, the rehersal dinner, the post-party, the wedding and, of course, the reception. It was fairly surreal seeing this girl get married, knowing that she's probably more of a grown up than me now. She's got a husband, a house, a job and a dog. I have none of those things. But that's fine by me. After all, I'm single and loving living the life in the City. I stayed far away from the bride's tossed bouquet.

I finally got to see some of my friends on Sunday night. I went to visit two different friends at their houses, but that was such a weird feeling. Scheduling time to see your friends... it makes the friendship seem a little less natural and somewhat forced. I began to question whether I can still go home and just hang out with my friends like I did before my big move. I got my answer on Sunday night. While I was disappointed that I didn't get to see everyone I would have liked to see, I realized that I did get to hang out with some of my favorite people. And it wasn't weird or forced. It was like I lived there and I am still part of them and they are still part of me.
So to my Old Monk friends, thank you for being home.