Is Home Really Where My Rump Rests?

This year has been an odd year, and due to the intense situations ebbing and flowing through my senior year I have been disinclined to truly enjoy where I am. So it was a great surprise to me when, for the first time in 7 months, I actually started enjoying my desert. My spring break was actually full of fun little surprises like that.

It hit me while I was taking the 60 home. I remembered a Dutch phrase I learned last January. Translated, it's something like "if the sun sets red, tomorrow will be a good day". Haha... well, that's not so hard for Phoenix. With a climate not allowing for many clouds or moisture, our sunrises and sunsets have more colors in a single day than most people ever see. So I guess that means a very high percentage of days should have good "tomorrow"s.

While I glided along the silent freeway going somewhere around 70mph with the windows down, the cool desert spring air hit with a slight wet scent which probably meant that somewhere a sprinkler had broken. The mountains shone red in front of me and I heavily considered continuing until I ran out of gas, which in my little car could have been well into the night. And suddenly it hit me. I'm not going to live here. I know, I don't really live in Gilbert anymore as is, but after August I really won't live there. I don't even know exactly when I'd be coming back. A few months? A year? more? I don't want to stay. I'm not wishing I could be in Gilbert or Tucson instead, it just seems so odd to think that my parents house will never be my home anymore. Even though I haven't spent more than 3 consecutive weeks at home in the past 4 years I've always referred to it as my home. It's the place where I send my phone and credit bills, it's the place where I run to when I get tired of real life. But after August I can't just go back to my childhood sanctuary.

I guess Christ will just have to get that much bigger for me.