I am about three months out from seeing family and a little bit homesick, so I wanted to post some pictures from my last trek home.
I am was born and raised in Northwestern Connecticut in a very small town called Sharon. It is finally beginning to thaw after a very long winter. My parents live in a very old farmhouse down a bumpy dirt road, and, yes, we have a red barn.
Growing up, I spent every waking moment possible outside. Now when I go back, I live in my bathing suit and my running shorts and a baseball cap because my Dad always asks me to wear one (to protect my skin). The only time I act civilized is when I take the Harlem line into the city from Wassaic. Otherwise, I drive barefoot, leave grass in my hair, and dirt underneath my fingernails.
From my office sky-rise in Downtown LA, I romanticize about my hometown. I bet it is probably a blustery, cold day of freezing rain, but in my fondest memories Sharon is lush and bright and pristine and it will always be home to me.