Since the age of 13, I was trying to con my mom into letting me flee Georgia and move to New York City. I was convinced if i could just get there I could catch my big break, go to four dance classes a day, and live the life of my dreams. Much to my dismay, my mother did not uproot my whole family of 5 to pursue my dreams like those E! True Hollywood Stories and didn't cash out her savings account to let me do it on my own. It didn't stop me, though. I worked so hard to get out of that mundane place - suburbia - where the tree-lined streets lead to strip mall after strip mall. I danced 6-7 days a week and babysat every Saturday night. After a whole school year earning $10/hour I would earn enough to go to NYC for four weeks during the summers after my sophomore and junior year. I took extra classes in high school and was ready to graduate a year early, but my parents, who love me very much, still insisted I suck up another year of normal life and go to a high school football game or two and prom. They just sucked didn't they? Well as cheesy as it sounds, it was that extra year at home that gave me the life experiences that shaped me into who I am today - my first professional gig in downtown Atlanta (yes, you're looking at the dance captain of The Wiz), my first real boyfriend, friends that are still near and dear to me over a decade later, and my acceptance letter into NYU, which was my permanent ticket out of there.

Though life in the concrete jungle is indeed full of magic and glitter, it does start to wear on you after a while. I haven't spent many holidays away from my family and that usually includes a pilgrimage back to Georgia. For those few days I soak up the quality time with my favorites and then after about five days or so I'm itching to get back to my independent fancy life in NYC. The last few years, my friends who have moved into the city of ATL always have a fun restaurant or new bar to bring us to, and I get to see (and enjoy) a different side of the south.

This summer, I went for a long weekend on my own dime just because. Not for Thanksgiving or a wedding or a graduation or that my parents were guilting me into it, but because I wanted to. I wanted a few days waking up in the smell of my childhood home, to have things like getting food or running an errand not be so hard cause you can just hop in the car and ride with music on and your hand sticking out the window. Those boring things of summer - like going to the pool everyday - were what I wanted. Because it just isn't so easy to have a big ole pool to yourself during the New York City heatwave.

Thus, I brought my man home and we enjoyed all those boring suburban things. And loved it. We slept in, ate all the food, took over the pool, went downtown with my friends, roadtripped with the fam, and may have even hit up a late night skate night. I felt more rested and rejuvenated returning to NYC than if I took a hundred hour nap. I feel a sense of that type of deep rest whenever my family is near, but the combo of family and home really nails it. In a culture and generation that praises independence, it feels good to be dependent for a few days.