Home.

The fact of the matter is, we live in a world of contrasts and opposing forces. And so, with the feeling of being home also come the reminders that I really am not home. O sea, the homesickness.

But what is home? I don’t miss my Lexington Ave house. I don’t miss my street, or my town. Or my bedroom. What is it that I miss? What is this concept of “home” anyway? After lots of reflection and deliberation today, I discovered what it is that I miss.

Teasing.

Only. Girl. These two words sum up my life.

Having grown up with four brothers, I was never what you’d call a girly girl. “Playing” consisted of touch football in the backyard and “hanging out” consisted of four siblings ragging on whoever the unlucky one of the moment was. I miss being made fun of. I miss Conor constantly reminding me that “boys rule girls drool.” I miss being bombarded with “Molly, shouldn’t you be on a diet?” every time I reach for a snack. I miss talking smack, watching sports, and engaging in hilariously hostile banter with my siblings. Analyzing Jurassic Park (as the “movie that defined out generation”). Quoting Dumb and Dumber and Home Alone to no end. The list goes on.

(my brothers and me last Easter)

The pleasantries are getting old. The opening of doors. The cheek kisses as customary greetings. The utter politeness of everyone. Where are my friends, the ones with whom I can “kick it,” drink a beer with while doing homework, watch the Phillies game, curse at the TV, pretend we’re characters in Always Sunny?

T.I.M.

Maybe that’s why I had such a great time this past weekend in Mexico City at the game of the century (not really). America, the name of Mexico City’s soccer team vs. Chivas, the team from Guadalajara. One of the country’s greatest rivalries. The game ended 0-0, but I had a ball (pun not intended) sitting in the nosebleeds (literally the last row of the stadium), trying to learn the cheers, dancing to the chants, and just straight-up actin’ a fool.

(me and Beatriz)



W.I.A.

I also had a ball not being on a diet at the Cuernavaca Gastronomic Festival, with my Colombian friend Beatriz who visited from Mexico City where she is currently living.

(notice strategic placement of hands to cover up over-stuffed tummy)

I also ate an amazing sweet pink tamal (singular for tamales) tonight.



W.I.L.T.

Of course, I shall leave you with nothing other than a song called “Home,” which was my favorite song of Spring 2010 and is still high on my list of top-played on itunes. "Home is wherever I'm with you..." Well said, Edward Sharpe.



p.s. I am going to the beach for a week on Friday to get in touch with my inner-child again, spend all day in the ocean, catching sand crabs and chasing waves, growing freckles and naturally exfoliating in the sand. So pardon if I don't write for a while. I'll be in Campeche. Google it.