"Blossoming"

I had an interesting conversation with my step-father Kent yesterday. I had called home to talk to my mother for Mother’s Day only to find that she was still at church. So I talked to my dad for quite awhile. My parents divorced when I was 11 and Mom and Kent remarried shortly there after. He is the father who was in charge of my rebellious teenage years. He is the father who would give the monthly interviews to make sure I was on track spiritually, emotionally, and socially. I won’t say he is perfect but he is one of the men I am most grateful for in my life. We talked of various things. For the first time in over a year I had one of our old interviews. I was able to ask a few pertinent questions myself. But what struck me the most was a comment he made partially in jest. He asked me if I was done blossoming out here in DC so that I could come home, because he could use the help.

I know this was not done to guilt trip me in any way. He could use the help; my family has always been a chaotic mess, and this was his way of letting me know that he would welcome any help I could offer. I have been in the role before; therefore he was slightly teasing me about it. But there was an underlying current of seriousness. My heart aches at the struggles I know exist with in my family. I know that part of who I am needs to assist in the handling of these struggles. To do that I would have to move home, I have thought about it ever since. I sat home and brooded about it last night. I don’t want to move home. I like living out here, but I miss my family. I miss the comfort of the familiar. I miss my boys. But I came out here for a purpose. Have I attained that purpose? Have I finished? Have I done what I was supposed to do? Have I grown in the ways I needed to? Am I that different then when I left home? In some ways I am. In others I haven’t changed at all. But family is the most important thing in this life. Do I go home to help? Or do I continue to “blossom”? I hate decisions.