The other night, my roommate and I were watching Garden State. Her for the first time. Me for what seems like the millionth time. But now as an "adult" living halfway across the country from the place I once called home and my family I still call family, Zach Braff's words, I'm sure you know which ones I'm referring to, struck me in a different way than they used to. So I'm sharing them with you today, on this beautiful Friday morning.
You know that point in your life when you realize the house you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of the sudden even though you have some place where you put all your shit, that idea of home is gone. You'll see one day and it's gone. You feel like you can never get it back. It's like you feel homesick for a place that doesn't even exist. Maybe it's like a rite of passage, you know. You won't ever have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know for your kids, for the family you start. It's like a cycle or something. I don't know but I miss the idea of it, you know. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people that miss the same imaginary place.
Watching Garden State the other day, I realized I may have hit that one day.