soopastryheart

We had set a plan. Or, I had set a plan. I had written an itinerary, all with checkpoints I was sure we’d make if we kept with the driving schedule. I could finally put my insomnia to good use, I had thought. Ki and I could take turns napping and driving, and we’d be okay.

But in the first 45 minutes, just outside of Issaquah, I forced Ki to find a rest room – the early morning Starbucks was brewing a combative blend in my digestive system. Walking back to the car, Ki made a comment about “a shitty way to start to the road trip”. I told him to shut up. I wasn’t deterred.

Foolishly, stupidly, and stubbornly, we drove straight to Colorado. I was determined to keep with my schedule. We stopped to brush our teeth at a rest stop that Honie and I commonly refer to as “the one horror movies are inspired from”; ominously abandoned, complete with blue-yellow flickering lights. Looking back now, it was the sketchiest place and the dumbest decision I could have made. I had overestimated how draining and exhaustive sitting in a car and driving really was – it wasn’t even midnight yet and I could already feel the pressure of my eyelids wanting to close. But we kept going, arriving in Boulder at 9am, nearly 24-hours after we had said goodbye to Seattle.

My parents had hoped that we take our time, take in some sights, visit some landmarks, and think of the trip as a vacation. But after the first day, we were all in accordance that the only thing we really wanted to do was to get home. We stopped at even more questionable rest stops, lost count of all the porn warehouse billboard signs, and became so desperately hungry one night to have our first and last experience with Sonic. We escaped near flooding in St. Louis, wished for more time in Nashville, and endured traffic in sweltering Atlanta heat. We finally rolled onto familiar roads in Orlando, only to be greeted by flash-rain the last five miles home, forcing us to go well below speed limit just so we could see the road.

After we woke up from a 12+ hour nap and washed the 3,100-mile residue off our bodies, Ki announced, or rather, swore, that he would “never, ever again” partake in another drive (it was his second in four years). We made it from Washington to Florida in five-days, no thanks to the worthless plan I had worked up.

There were numerous reasons I left Seattle last June, but none more important than the fact that my parents requested it – there were various issues they needed my assistance with. And at 24, moving back home with my parents was never part of my plan (I’m sensing a recurring theme here), but I never felt burdened. It may not have been an ideal situation, but it was never a difficult choice to make.

Our family’s motto has always unashamedly been “Family First” (close second: “if you smelt it, you dealt it”). With that said, it’s not always easy. Often times, it’s those you love most who manage to drive you the most crazy, pushing your patience and understanding until you’re just about to go on a murderous spree.

I have done things against my parents’ advice and vice versa. And when those things have blown up in our faces, we’ve never maliciously taunted or ridiculed each other (lovingly teased, yes). Even after all these years, I am not immune to some of the embarrassing antics of my parents, but I never feel ashamed (even when my dad mispronounces ‘sheet’ with ‘shit’). There are plenty of things we make fun of and give each other a hard time about – my freshman year weight gain, Ki’s tendency to create words (‘tooken’ is not past tense for ‘take’, you dolt), and Honie’s newly formed pubescent pimples. But if anyone outside my dad’s tax return makes the grave mistake of commenting on those same jabs, we’re ready to whoop some ass.

We root for each other. When you hurt one of us, you better be ready to fight us all (and Honie always goes for the groin). The only times I ever truly harbor thoughts of ill will against others is when my family is wronged or hurt. If I witness my parents being manipulated because the asshole thinks the language is a barrier, I won’t think twice about belittling you with all these nice people watching. If Honie ever came home crying, you can rest assured Ki and I will literally and metaphorically break your fucking face. It doesn’t matter how severe the incident may be; if you’ve caused my dad’s migraines or if you’re the reason my mom lays restless at night, that is grounds for a bicycle to the teeth.

We all complain because – let’s face it – families can drive you batshit crazy. But we don’t hold grudges. We don’t hold debts. We always forgive. We accept every flaw, every bad habit, every questionable character trait. We protect each other in ways that’s exclusive and obsessive. These are the only people I know who will drop everything, and sacrifice all, and the only thing I would have to do is ask. And while we can get occasionally annoyed and tired of each other, we never consider the things we do for each other, work.

It’s this irrational love that keeps me sane.

There’s a lot of life that’s happened in this past month – a lot of frustration, a lot of misunderstanding, and a lot of heartbreak. But what’s come out is a renewal of spirit, a reinforcement of the bond we share with each other, and the undeniable truth that unconditional love is real. It is honest, it is invincible, and it is limitless.

I left Seattle last June because my family needed me. And I had hoped being in their presence would ease some of the doubts that had been clouding my consciousness. I had hoped the insecurities and weariness I had felt for a certain career and certain life would be banished, and I would come out of it refueled and more prepared than ever. And although I did it in the most unconventional way, with a result that surprised all of us, I do feel resolution. And with a sense of clarity that I haven’t felt in years, I’m about to embark on a journey I never fathomed a possibility. And I know I am supported by the only people whose approval matter.

Returning to Seattle has me almost salivating right now, as I am excited to return to the city with modest temperatures, people who hesitate to flaunt their confederate flags and can spell at a grade-school level. If it weren’t for my family being here, I don’t think I’d ever step foot in Florida ever again. And while being in Seattle is the most ideal right now, leaving home, leaving my parents, leaving Honie hasn’t been an easy decision. Even with their blessing, I am leaving with a heavy heart. But the beauty of leaving home, especially this one, is that you can always come back, and never have to feel an adjustment period. And if hating Florida has proved anything at all, it’s that home truly is where the heart is. So until my parents move back to the Evergreen state, I will continue to call this god-forsaken heat hole, home.

Yes, Ki swore on more than one occasion that he would never drive cross-country again. Phrases such as “I’d rather shoot myself in the face” and “Are you fucking crazy?” were thrown out whenever the suggestion was made, even as a joke.

My Civic is packed. We leave for Seattle tomorrow morning.

Never have I ever felt more ashamed of my behavior than I have in the past week. I acted selfishly, convinced myself of things I never thought I could, and became dangerously close to becoming a despicable human being.

I never thought I was the type of person who could be so stubborn and indignant and resentful. But pride isn’t worth it when you’re hurting those who matter most.

If there were ever a redeeming factor to this terrible week, it’s that once again, I am reminded of how truly blessed I am to be surrounded with so much love and forgiveness.

And that no matter how much I think I may have figured out, there’s still so much I have yet to learn.