Homegirl

There's something about moving out. Something about truly living on your own and being independent. Home is no longer home.
I can't explain it, am certain my family won't understand it, and yet I can't deny it. There is nothing better than sharing my time with those I love most (ie my family) and Dorothy summed it up best when she said that there's no place like home. But like visiting a childhood haunt, you can't help but feel you've outgrown it.

Let me explain that thought very carefully.
I haven't outgrown my family or spending time with them. Instead, just as you don't properly fit into your old tree house or fictitious world of barbies, I sometimes feel I don't properly fit back into the role I last held within my family.
Whenever I go home there awaits the same role and the same expectations I left when I moved out three years ago. I'm still the eighteen-year-old who loves the same activities, conversations, and people... or at least that's what my family expects to be the case.

It doesn't matter how much I have changed. I still find myself party to

Universal Truth Twenty Two
Those you aren't around, never seem to age in your mind.

I can't begrudge others for doing something that I do myself. But I find myself wondering what I can do to change such perception. When do I bridge the gap? When do I leave behind childhood completely and enter adulthood? Am I ever to do that completely, or will I always be Daddy's little girl and a pain in my mother's side?