Homecoming. Coming home.

I probably should have posted long before now. Um, whoops.
I made my first trip "home" this weekend. It was... different. Not necessarily better or worse than when I lived there, but a lot of things changed. The whole weekend passed in the blink of an eye, such a surreal and out-of-body experience that it seemed more like dream.
Friday
10:15 p.m. - Three of my friends and I rolled onto the road, only semi-ready for the 3.5-hour drive ahead of us. It was late, of course, but we really didn't want to get up early the next morning for the drive (it is my firm belief that - in my case - it is easier to stay up late than to wake up early).
Saturday
1:36 a.m. - We finally get there. I start dropping each of my friends off at their respective houses.
2:44 a.m. - I drop the last person off, heading toward my parents' house at last (Yes, that's right... it took me an hour to drop three people off.)
2:54 a.m. - Open garage door, unload car, walk into house. My mom wakes up and says "Hi", and then I leave again, heading up to the high school.
3:21 a.m. - Rest assured, I am not a bitter hoodlum looking to avenge my depressing high school experience by vandalizing the front marquee. The orchestra had their annual lock-in that night, and a few of them invited me over since I was in town. Of course, I went. As soon as I walked in, two lovely young seniors - Spence and Dave - [loudly] broke out into "Lean on Me", complete with steps and clapping.
3:47 a.m. - I decided that Link Tag is officially one of the greatest games this side of the Pacific.
3:48 a.m. - I realized how... old I felt once I was back with the awesome orchestra kids.
4:23 a.m. - I leave. Because now I'm old. And I can't stay up so late.
The rest of the weekend went by in a flash. I managed to sleep through one breakfast, have two lunches with my parents, play Guitar Hero with a bunch of people for four hours, get my Shipley's fix with an amazingly tight-knit circle of friends, stand in the pouring rain and be happy about it, visit the movie theater, and still have time to do laundry.
Okay, so my mom did most of my laundry.
This might be sad, but I think the part of my hometown I miss the most is my job at the movie theater. There was never a day that went by at that place where something didn't push my buttons. But even with all the mishaps, all the pressure, all the ridiculous experiences, I loved being there. The people were (are?) absolutely amazing and hilarious and personable (well, most of them). The hours were good. And the perks (e.g. free movies) weren't bad either.
But still, college is so much cooler.
On the way back to Austin, in a little four-door sedan with just enough room for four college kids, their fresh, clean laundry, and their huge love of music, I said something without even realizing what I had implied at first:
"We're going home. It feels good to know we're finally going home." I don't know exactly when I realized it, but I know it now: Austin is my home. I'll always have a place to stay back in my hometown, but I don't belong there anymore like I do in Austin. Here at UT, I'm comfortable, I'm permanent, I'm myself - I'm not just a visitor for a couple of nights. UT is truly home.
I'm home. Flying down a deserted county road, windows down, the wind whipping throughout the car, beautiful cornfields on either side, the orange sun setting just over the distant treeline, and three friends in the car singing at the top of their lungs brought me back here. Just like the song we were singing, Bono said it best:
"It's a beautiful day."