My yellow house

Thanksgiving was a couple days ago and I've been thinking a lot about my home lately.

I love Provo. I love the beautiful mountains that I can see out my bedroom window, and all the ridiculous BYU students who live in my neighborhood, (except liberty square people who park like idiots and block our driveway all the time--may the devil and his angels tow your Toyota corolla down to hell.) I loved growing up in a tiny pioneer house and I love that I can see my family whenever I want to. I love the snow and the fall leaves and spring that really is just an extension of winter. I love just experiencing life here and I never get tired of the beauty around me. Whether it's the mountains, the fishy lake, or someone's golden soul--there is a lot of amazing to be found in this place.

You can tell me there's nothing to do, or that I haven't experienced "real life" in the "real world" because I live in a Provo bubble, and I will tell you that you are the one who lives in the bubble. Open your eyes and see past your bias.

People ask me all the time if I'm excited to get out of here at last, or am I going to move after I'm done with school? One day I will move away from here, and I will be sad but I'll have no qualms about it. I will move wherever I need to and I'll be happy (just please heaven, don't let it be humid!) but Provo will always be my first home, and I am thankful for that.