Home, Sweet Home

Grandmama and I were supposed to head home to Texas from Oklahoma Tuesday, then Wednesday, then Thursday. We were mostly held hostage by the weather; Monday, Grandmama pushed leaving to Wednesday, because the people she needed to meet weren’t able to be met until Tuesday.

I’m finally home, wherein I can stim and be autistic as I please, door closed and in my own zone of comfort.

I’m happy to have my own bed and room and bathroom to use and whatnot, as Grandmama and I had to share a double-/full-sized bed.

There was also merely a road separating us from the train that goes by right in front of the house, and I suppose if I was there long enough I’d get used to it and it would be no big deal. I had migraines and headaches all the time, and the weather was so wet and humid that it felt like I was in the rainforest.

As a child, I dreamt of living in a rainforest someday and since forgot, but staying in Oklahoma made me remember said dream.

I’m keeping this short and sweet, because I feel like it does the job best sometimes. I’m home, where I can be autistic in my room without interruptions and basically dress as I freaking please—no need to worry how much leg I’m showing! :p

(Never knew Texas could be less Bible belt-y than another state.)

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Becca’s gravatar

Coming home after a long trip is the best feeling. Being able to snuggle under YOUR sheets and wear what YOU please.

At my grandmother’s house in PA, there is a train track just across the river. When I was little it did bother me and would wake me up when I tried to sleep, but as I grew up, it became comforting and now when I hear trains, I associate them with staying at my grandma’s. It’s a comfort, as weird as it is.

Michelle’s gravatar

Home is sweet place. I’ve noticed Texas is also less bible belty too, but it still has its problems, but not about to discuss politics, of course. Home is home where the heart is, always.