Cheery cheer.

Did you know that the best feeling in the world is when you're in a spot that you belong to completely.  Every part of you, every inch of your skin and freckle on your nose and fly away hair.  The best feeling in the world.

And all of those other feelings that you had while you were in other parts of the world where you didn't quite fit.  Or where you didn't fit at all.  All of those times make it worth it to just be here.

Here where being alive feels natural and less of a battle.

It had been so long and I had forgotten it.

So I hopped on a plane without telling them.  I rang the door bell at my home and nearly cried when I saw my sister.  We threw some bags in the car and headed for Kansas to find our parents.

And we spent the night out in the city listening to jazz music and eating rich food and laughing, laughing, laughing.  My father blew out his candle and it felt like the whole world was celebrating with us.

I love the city.

Sometimes it feels like the mountains are crowding me out and the sky is closing in on me.  

I got to see my oldest friends.  We sat in the hot tub during a storm and watched black birds fly while we ate chocolates washed down with our favorite beer.  And we talked about Jesus and grace and loving ourselves.  Then the rain fell and it felt like waking up from a long sleep.

Abbie and I spent the day at the zoo.  We rode the carousel and sang Sweet Caroline with two year olds and played in the fountain.

I drove.  Everywhere.  Out of the way and around and fast.  Down my favorite street with my favorite station turned up.  Dodge never felt better.

My brother almost tipped over, I hugged him so hard.  He came home from a country that is starving and he came home quiet.  But he came home. The next day we sat outside with our chopsticks and cucumber water and made promises to visit more often.  We sketched while the Italian Cup was on and cheered with his friends from other parts of the world and it was good to see him smile. 

I spent the mornings in the bathroom with my mom.  I have a bench in there and it's tradition.  I sit and talk.  She puts on her makeup and drinks her orange juice while old Christian music plays in the background.  I know I'm home when I have the old songs going round and round my head.

The nights I spent with my sister.  When we got in after our evenings and kicked off our shoes and uncomfortable clothes  we watched our old favorites and talked about the messy things.  About the difference between waiting on God and waiting on men.  And how we aren't very good at waiting.  But we're getting better.

It was all nearly perfect.  And it was unbearably hard to leave.

It was good to be whole.