The Strange Feeling of Leaving Home to Go Home

A few weeks ago, I found myself preparing for a trip from Cocoa Beach, Florida back to Richmond, Virginia for my daughter’s wedding. 

As the departure date approached, I felt stressed. 

There were lists to make. Bags to pack. Work deadlines to finish. A house to prepare before leaving. A pond in the backyard that wasn’t cooperating. Health concerns that decided to show up at the worst possible time. 

I was worried about the long drive. I was worried about being away from home. I was worried about everything that could go wrong. 

The funny thing is that every major transition in life seems to come with the same feeling. The anticipation is often harder than the experience itself. 

Then I arrived. 

I stayed with my sister. I spent time with my daughter, my son, my grandchildren, my parents, and friends I had not seen in a while. 

There were moments of joy. There were moments of frustration. There were moments where I desperately wanted my own space. 

There were moments where I felt overwhelmed by noise, schedules, emotions, and the constant presence of other people. 

There were moments where I escaped to parks, walked barefoot in the grass, sat by the river, wandered through the woods, and simply tried to find a little peace. 

But there were also moments I will never get back. 

Watching my daughter get married. Playing with my grandchildren. Talking with my son about life. Laughing with old friends. Sharing meals with family. Seeing my parents. Creating memories that will matter long after the details are forgotten. 

And then something unexpected happened. 

As the trip came to an end, I found myself emotional about leaving. 

The same trip I had been anxious about taking. The same trip where I occasionally felt crowded and exhausted. The same trip where I missed my routines and my privacy. 

I suddenly didn’t want it to end. 

That’s when I realized something important. Sometimes the places that challenge us are also the places that remind us who we are. 

Richmond holds decades of my story. My children grew up there. My family is there. Some of my hardest memories happened there. Some of my best memories happened there too. 

And while Florida has become my home, Richmond will always be part of me. 

The truth is that I wasn’t simply preparing to leave Virginia. I was preparing to leave people I love. And I was preparing to return to a life I love. 

Both things were true. 

I missed my beach walks. I missed my routines. I missed my own bed. I missed the quiet. 

But I was also going to miss the hugs, the conversations, the laughter, and the feeling of being surrounded by people who have known me for most of my life. 

Life has a funny way of teaching us that gratitude and sadness can exist together. You can be grateful for where you’re going while grieving what you’re leaving. 

You can love your independence while missing your family. You can be excited to return home while feeling emotional about saying goodbye. 

Maybe that’s what growth really looks like. Not choosing one feeling over another. But allowing both to exist at the same time. 

As I prepare to drive back to Florida, I’m reminded that home isn’t always a place. 

Sometimes home is a collection of people, memories, and experiences that live inside us no matter where we go. 

And maybe that’s why leaving can feel so emotional. 

Because sometimes you’re leaving home to go home. 

#LiveTheVibe