When I left for college, I was high on life, confident in the future, and ready for new challenges. I never expected to feel so homesick. I was embarrassed to feel the way I did. Even the word “homesick” sounded lame and childish—it was a word used to describe six-year-olds at an overnight camp, not a self-respecting adult.
Growing up as an Army brat, moving every couple of years, making and leaving friends was just part of the deal. Most of my fellow Army brat friends fell into one of two categories: either you were really extroverted and outgoing and able to make friends really quickly; or you were very introverted and didn’t bother trying too hard.
Last weekend our new neighbors moved in. Anticipating their arrival, my husband had said to me, “We ought to do something nice for them—make them a meal or something.” Perfect! I had a new recipe for Triple Chocolate Scones that I was foaming at the mouth to make, just waiting for the right occasion. I also had everything on hand to make one of my favorite recipes: Spinach Enchilada Casserole.
A few months ago I had a little lunch reunion with a group of guys I hadn’t seen in over 15 years. We used to ride BMX bikes together and had developed some strong friendships via that sport. It was a blast to talk and laugh about the good old days. By the end of the afternoon we vowed to start a web site that would give us a forum to document some of the crazy stories from yesteryear, and allow us to meet up with other BMX riders from around the world.