Missing New Jersey . . .

I will admit, the house feels like home.  I like the independence it gives me.  I like knowing that just because I raise my voice after ten o’ clock, it doesn’t mean I’ll wake my mom up and she’ll yell at me to be quiet.  I like that we have the place to ourselves and can decorate it anyway we want.

But I miss Sycamore, Veteran’s Park, Barnes and Noble, Court Jester, the Parkway, 287, the malls, Union Beach . . .

Melanie, Joey, Gene . . .  I miss you guys.  I wish I wasn’t three and a half days from you.  I wish I was ten minutes away.

Except I know I can’t come back yet.  We need to stay out here long enough to make it worth it.  Which means we need to find jobs and be out here for at least six months or so.  We need to save up and come back ourselves, because my parents invested too much in us coming out here.  They paid for our vacation out here, they paid for the moving truck, they paid for a lot of stuff.

::Sighs::  Rob might not feel like it is for him, but New Jersey’s my home.

And I want to come back to it.