Hi there lovelies! Since I am currently back home for a short few weeks, I decided it would be fitting to write a more personal post so you guys can get to know a little more about me. Something I’ve always struggled with was the concept of “home.” Growing up in a military family, I’ve been able to call a wide variety of area codes my “home” from time to time. All the way from a tiny island in Japan to the middle of the Mojave Desert; you could say I’ve lived all over the map. Around seventh-grade, my dad retired and my family and I packed up our tiny desert townhouse and made our thirty-hour road trip to Kentucky. Being so accustomed to moving, this didn’t strike me as anything special but I will say that I knew absolutely nothing about this new place I’d call home—besides KFC and horses. Which is funny to me now because that’s usually the first response I get when I tell people I am from Kentucky. Long story short, I grew to love Kentucky but when it came time to decide on where I’d go to college, I had a strong desire to branch out and apply out-of-state. Little did I know, I would end up moving two-thousand miles away to attend my dream school in San Diego. It wasn’t until that freshman year of college when I honestly realized the true meaning of home. I remember it like yesterday, saying goodbye to my parents on move-in day and feeling an actual pit in my stomach when they walked out that door and I was faced with what I had done. Being the absolute home-body that I am, I don’t think I had ever spent more than five days without my family, and that was at church camp in seventh grade. After going into full panic-mode, I then of course realized what an amazing experience I had in front of me and I decided to make the most of it. Don’t get me wrong, I definitely did…but that’s a different story. This story is about what I learned along the way. Before that year, if someone were to ask me about my home, I would probably tell them that my dad was in the military and it was hard for me to consider one single place I had lived, my home. Or maybe I would describe my house in Kentucky; all brick, down a tree-shaded street. That year, I had learned more about myself and life than I had learned in the seventeen years prior. I learned that sometimes home isn’t just a brick infrastructure with a wrap around porch, or a one bedroom apartment in the city. Home can have two hazel-green eyes, and a crooked smile. It’s the one place where both your mind is at ease, and your heart feels full. Home can look like a rainy Sunday morning, or a Friday night out dancing with your girl friends. It’s where faith always wins over fear. Home isn’t necessarily just a place, or one specific person. I think there’s a little bit of home inside each of us. It’s just a matter of embracing it in the way we live our lives, every single day.
→ Overalls « Brandy Melville »
→ I am also obsessed with these overalls!
→ Top « A&F »
→ Similar top!
→ Similar pair of shoes that I love!
→ Similar bag at a much better price! — such a STEAL!
→ Same pair of sunnies in a different color — so cute!
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