Missing You

This post may be a little different from some of my others. If you’re reading this, it’s likely about you. 

I’ve been experiencing an emotion lately that I haven’t felt in years, decades even: I’m homesick. 

I miss my parents and grandma, my cousins, aunts and uncles, brother. I haven’t seen one cousin for seven years. I’ve never gotten to meet his wife or three kids because they live in a different country. I miss my camp sisters and brothers, some of whom I haven’t seen since camp!  I miss some dear high school friends, and seeing their status updates on facebook just isn’t the same. I miss my best college friends and roommates, strong, successful, smart people who all shaped my years at Penn. I miss my LA and Santa Monica friends, lovely people with whom I enjoy devoting all of my time. I miss my (old) gym and mostly the laughter, mental toughness, growth, and strong bonds that were formed there. I miss the ease and comfort of being with people who know me well and accept my idiosyncrasies. I miss my old neighbors and the bird, dogs, and kitties in the yard. I miss my yoga teachers. Even my Long Beach folks, I miss you. 

My heart aches for the familiarity of old jokes and laughter, not having to network or introduce myself, and being able to just be. 

I remember when my good friend and next door neighbor, Becca, moved to San Diego. I was so sad. I loved having her there. I didn’t take for granted that it wouldn’t always be like that. Rather, I accepted when she had to leave to further her relationship and grow. Same with Brad when he moved to San Francisco. And Erica when she went to business school in Chicago. And Anna who was only here for a year, but who made the nights I got to see her so special. And now I’m the one who left. 

Los Angeles has a special way of making me happy and exhausted all at once. I was driving in Westwood the other day and circled the block five times for a 20 minute meter. In my new town, parking is free and plentiful. Overall, I became tired of LA. But now four months after I left, I’m really sad and missing the comforts I’m used to.  

Here’s the other issue: where and what is home? Is it my childhood home in NM? Is it the dorm in the Quad? Is it one of nine residences in LA? Is it my new house where I have all of my stuff? Is it camp? Many of these physical residences have been my home, but right now, I’m missing the characters who populate my heart. 

My best friend, Brooke, has a one year old baby in Philadelphia and I’ve never met her. This, too, makes me so sad. My college friend and roommate, Tammy, is a pediatric surgeon and I hardly know about her life. Most of my housemates from college have children and I don’t know their names! I’d love to see pictures. And from what I’ve read on facebook, two of my Swedish friends got married. I always thought we’d stay super close. Stephanie, Marni, Jane, Shirley, Naz, Pili, Jennifer, Hilary, Erin  — all remarkable women with whom I love spending time and can pass hours laughing and connecting. 

I don’t mean to sound like a sad sack. I truly wish I had unlimited airline miles so I could travel around the country and world to visit my family and friends. I’m also fairly certain that if there was a giant event, like a wedding or depressingly, a funeral, I’d see more of my friends and family in one place (unless it was my funeral and then they’d all get together and I’d be left out. Sorry for the macabre humor).

I’ve always prided myself on being an excellent friend who keeps in touch well. Now, maybe too much time has passed and so much life. Maybe my friends with kids are too busy. Maybe I’m too busy or preoccupied with starting my businesses. Maybe we are no longer interested and have really moved on. 

Regardless of the reasons, I miss my friends. I wish you were here or I was there right now. I wish we had a plan to see each other. I wish I knew more about your life. Here’s a deal: please reach out and I promise to respond. 

Please visit my website at Coaching By Nina Rubin