It still happens

Sometimes ( a lot of times really) I want to go home.  Not my home... not the place where me and my husband are living together, but to my place of birth, the home where I grew up.  When things "suck", I will find myself repeating the same phrase with tears in my eyes, "I want to go home".  It happens at least once a week.  haha.

I am a terrible mama's girl and just as much of a family person.  My grandparents lived just down the street from where I grew up and my aunts and uncles were pretty close by as well.  It's hard being states away.

Today, my car wouldn't start.  I must admit that I have been fortunate enough to have the same car since high school.  My dad bought it fairly new and barely used from my grandparents.  I drove it in college with rarely a problem.  It's seen me through numerous fender benders.  It's made it through countless ikea shopping events, road trips and it made the move to California.  Up until I moved to to the West coast, I have hardly had a mechanical care in the world because my dad, Andy, always took care of everything for me.  Anyways, for the first time in my life... my little Honda baby failed me.  She sputtered and died.  The only thing I could think of in my desperation is how if I were home I could call on my dad and he would whip it into shape for me.

I miss having the luxury and convenience of a family to help you out when times are sticky.  I know I can just pop over to an auto shop and have a guy check it out, but sometimes it's just nice to be able to rely on what you know.  That comfort and familiarity.  I miss it.