some days are worse than others. this, unfortunately, has turned into a whole week.

i am almost 30-years-old and still get homesick. i have lived away from this place for almost 7 years, have a beautiful, supportive, loving family of my own, the best in-laws i could ask for and i still want my mom and dad.

it's not just that, though [because, let's be honest: as much as i love being back where i feel most comfortable and in the house i still call 'home,' there is always a breaking point at which i want to turn around and run the other direction.]

it's all about what this 'home' represents that i am craving: genuine people, hard workers, kindness for days, creativity, appreciation for other people, familiarity, compassion, a fight-like-hell mentality without bringing others down, a village.

the last week has been unnoticeably and extraordinarily challenging for me. the cold of this northeast city, the looking down and avoiding eye-contact instead of looking people in the eye and smiling, the head shakes in frustration after getting off of an elevator full of women who love their lives, this tired and jaded approach to life has worn on me this week in ways that make me miss 'home.' some days i am strong enough to fight, other days my smile lines fade and i fit right in.

it's 10 degrees colder in that town, but the people are warm and today, more than other days, i miss that.

i was led through a practice by these people tonight. and i got just what i needed. a much-needed reminder.

their energy, their love, their passion and dedication to sharing what they do with the world is contagious. and maybe there was something to that, but my expectation for this class was high. i needed a sweaty, juicy practice and this was going to be it. my practice tonight with ben and tori was everything unexpected.

ben's acoustic guitar and beat-boxing supporting our breath. standing nearly nose-to-nose with the teacher, tori, as we stood in tree pose, supporting each other and hugging it out. a surprise practice next to my new friend lauren, a new teacher-training friend with whom i found immediate connection. stepping outside of the journey into power sequencing and, by tori's own definition, leading students through what's needed in the present moment. a light shone onto approaching my training in a totally different way.

and, strangely, a homesickness i haven't felt in a very long time. it's been two full years since i've been back to the place i'll forever call home. two years too long since i've walked the streets of my beloved hometown; spent sunday dinner in my parents' house full of siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews, really anyone who would join us; opened the coat closet full of my mom's things and breathed in her distinct smell; walked in to see my dad reading at the kitchen counter with his store-bought reading glasses.

two years ago yesterday. and for whatever reason, tonight while i stood on my mat, moving to the beats ben created and the sound of tori's voice, i felt a little piece of my heart was missing. a little piece of my world that i haven't really shared with my mister or our little one. a pretty big piece, actually, that's so important, so crucial to my vitality.

as i left the studio tonight, i told ben about the unexpected thing that showed up on my mat. his words really hit home:

'it was so nice to meet you...and...

GO HOME!' he said.