I was born in Kentucky, and then moved to Arizona, and then to Texas, then left for school in Oklahoma, while my parents moved to Tennessee, as I currently type this in California.
Is my dad in the military?
No. My mom's a news anchor.
As I fly home for the holidays, I've come to a shocking realization: I'm a family girl. Bee bopping from one state to the next, I've never experienced that warm and fuzzy feeling of smelling momma's home cooking as I step foot into my childhood home for two solid reasons:
1. Momma can't cook.
2. I've had 8 childhood homes.
Hate to throw you under the bus there mom, but you & I both know the crock pot ain't cuttin' it. Although 8 homes may seem like a terribly large, foreboding number to many, I think of them as 8 spectacularly different, grand adventures.
"I call this room!"
"Luke, they have tennis courts in this neighborhood!!!"
"Wanna build a skateboard ramp from the leftover construction wood??"
Moving brought my family closer. Each time we had to leave our incredible group of family friends, God surprised us with a bucket full more.
The hardest move for my dad was leaving his old Kentucky home. Born and raised, he never moved from his childhood home where his neighbors are still his neighbors from preschool, and his best friends all attend the same 11 o'clock Sunday mass. For the first time in his life, he was uprooted from family, friends, and familiarity.
Some days, I think that would have been really cool. To grow up living in one house my whole life, to have best friends since birth, to be forced to go to my cousin's graduation because, well, that's what families do. Right?
But you know what, if that was my life I wouldn't be who I am today. Coming home for the holidays means coming home to my family of 5. Yup, that means Mom, Dad, John & Luke. My cousins may live in Kentucky, my grade school friends may live in Arizona, my high school friends may live in Texas, but you know what? My best friends live in Nashville, Tennessee.
Some days I really think this Kornet family is weird. Do other people hang out with their family this much? Do other people like their family this much? Why do I frequently think such thoughts? Because I can't get enough of them. They're so funny. I can lay on the couch and watch HGTV with my mom and dad til 2am, I can watch Luke roll his eyes all night as my mother pleads to pluck his brows and shave the unkempt beard, I can gladly suffer through yet another long-winded, older brother John spiel for a few minutes. I love these guys. It's not that I'm forced to stay home during my few days off a year, but it's that I want to.
I just finished my last pre-conference road trip before Christmas break. Luke plays Dayton tomorrow at Dayton and I get to go. 5 hours in the car with John. I plan on bringing my Bible so he can't talk the whole time. I mean who interrupts a girl trying to read her bible?
Bottom line is this- I'll do anything and everything in the world for my family. I love how close we are, how driving 10 hours to Dayton University on the few days I have off a year isn't even a question, how Christmas is Christmas in all 50 states, not just where one old childhood home awaits, how the dear Lord has given me 23 years of crazy adventure, lifelong friends, and a plethora of friends' homes I can always crash in if I end up with a bad layover.
I love this life of mine. I love my mom. I love my dad. I love my little Luke. And yes John, I love you too.