home
Today is Thanksgiving. It’s been an exceptionally quiet, no fuss type day with my parents in Illinois. The show is on a two week hiatus and because of that, attending a wedding, and a couple other reasons, I’ve found myself back in my hometown.
Over the last 16 months of tour, I’ve been hearing myself describe coming back here as “going to my parents place” instead of what I used to say - “going home.” I’ve been trying to dissect when and how I decided to make that distinction. Even though I haven’t lived in my parents house -outside of the 18 months when my industry didn’t exist - since I was 18, I’ve always answered the question of “where’s home?” by saying “Illinois.” But that just doesn’t feel right, good, or correct anymore.
This place isn’t my home.
It’s a landing pad, a free and comfortable place to stay (thanks M&D) a place I send my mail, write in as my permanent address on legal paperwork, and vote. It’s no longer the place I look forward to coming back to. The reasons that used to keep that longing in place, just…don’t really exist here for me anymore.
I’ve driven over 20,000 miles since we came back last July. I’ve performed in 18 cities, 8 states, and 2 countries. I’ve seen so many different license plates on these drives, and always felt a little twinge of excitement when I saw a fellow Illinoian on the road. So why - when I finally drove back into IL last week - was I so underwhelmed when they were all I saw? Maybe “underwhelmed” isn’t even the right word to describe it. How do you describe coming back to the only place you really, truly know and feeling like you don’t belong there anymore? How do you describe feeling torn between wanting deep, thick, and widespread roots, when the most logical place to tend to those is a place you want nothing to do with? How do you describe coming back to a place and seeing faces you don’t really know anything about anymore? How do you describe the feeling of deep aloneness when you’re in the place you came from?
These questions - though hard and disruptive to mull over - are helping me inch closer to actually believing that my life is already so rich. Inhabiting such a transitory lifestyle - in service of my career - makes it easy to focus on all the parts that make experiencing my life outside of it, difficult. And even though that very well may be true, it cannot be denied that my life is full of love, joy, understanding, compassion, care and comfort. It is full of deep, long, whole body laughs that get other people laughing even when they didn’t hear the joke. It is full of long, intentional, and meaningful hugs. It is full of “I haven’t seen you in forever!” and picking right back up where you left off. It is full of nature, water, continued learning and curiosity. IT IS FULL. My life is full.
These moments, these people, these places…it’s a comfortable fallacy to think they’re here forever, that they’re yours to keep. Maybe that’s why some never leave where they’re from. And maybe that’s why some never stay. All I know is that I am deeply grateful to the people who have let me in, share themselves with me, and let me see them at their best and their worst. I am deeply grateful for the work I do, the places I get to see, the adventures I’ve taken myself on, and the thrill it is to experience it all. I am deeply grateful for the short, but meaningful romances I’ve had, that have allowed me to step up and into better, more honest, versions of myself. My gratefulness outweighs my fears, shortcomings, and sadness.
And that’s that on Thanksgiving 2022.