Tomorrow is the big day. It is the day that I will load up my dad's truck with my last few belongings, drive two and a half hours to a big new city, and begin my life as a college kid. But, you know, it isn't the thought of finally moving away from home that tugs at my heartstrings and makes me a little weepy. Living in Austin is sure to be a blast, and I am not the least bit sad about that part. No, this restlessness of mine is not a result of leaving home, but of knowing that I will never come back.

I will miss everything about this place. Our living room, where my parents and I always enjoy our coffee together on Saturday and Sunday mornings while watching and discussing the news; where Dad would wrap me in a towel as a toddler and swing me so high in the air that I felt like I was flying; and where I would sometimes fall asleep by the fireplace during the winter months with my dog, Kaki, by my side. Our kitchen, where Lance and I successfully engaged in a full-blown food fight with bow tie pasta one night a few years back; where Mom would occasionally have hot chocolate waiting on the stove for me and Jason after returning home from school on a cold day; and where I cooked my first actual meal for my parents. The backyard, where I shared a kiss or two with the most amazing boy that I have ever known; where Marissa and I loved to pick hundreds of honeysuckle flowers every spring so that we could sit on the trampoline and carefully dissect them in search for the honey; and where Daddy built me my very own swing set. Our game room, where Jason somehow convinced 7-year old me to play baseball with him numerous times, even though we only had couch pillows for bases and no room to run; where hours of homework were completed night after night at the big wooden computer desk; and where Kristen and I would stay up late into the night watching scary Lifetime movies or The O.C. reruns on the big screen. My bedroom, in which the walls have heard a plethora of secrets from the endless hours of girl talk between me and the best friends that I've been blessed to keep all of these years; where I have sat time and time again in the same spot next to the window, reading a good book or talking to God in uninterrupted peace; and finally, where I lay my head one last time to dream familiar dreams before I leave it all behind.

Goodbye, home. You've been good to me. 

(Yes, my room is Pepto Bismol pink. And I sleep with a teddy bear. What can I say? I like what I like.)