As I sit in the car riding “home” from our family’s trip to the gulf coast, I contemplate my “home”.
While I may live in Oklahoma, I was not born there. Michigan is my birth state. For what seems like most of my life I called “the Mitten state” home. Why? Well, for no other reason than it was where I was born and what my parents called home. But there is nothing in Michigan for me but a handful of distant relatives.
Spending the last week away and driving back the last two days made me realize I call Oklahoma “home”. When did I decide that? I’m not sure, but there is nowhere else I want to be. Other states make me want to be home. There nothing like walking down the street in OK and having random strangers wave and say “hi”. It’s such a foreign notion in other places.
While Florida is pretty, it’s beach sunsets don’t compare to the sunsets in my beautiful state. The sand is soft, warm and inviting, but I’ll take red dirt over sand in and on everything.
Home is more than a place, it’s the people that make it. But even if my people left OK, it would still be home. I may have been born in MI but I was raised in Oklahoma and it’s part of who I am.
Oklahoma, you’re home.
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