I was born in Chicago to a Polish mother and a hillbilly father. I have urban beginnings. We moved to West Virginia when I was around 5 years old, and I was raised there. I stayed in Appalachia until I was 20 years old, at which time I spent a year outside of Savannah, Georgia and then went back to West Virginia. At 35 I moved to Jacksonville, Florida. I’ve been in Florida since that time, or for 15 years. The majority of my years have been spent in West Virginia; that is the place I call home and the background of most of my stories.

Not too long ago during a recent visit home, something odd happened. There are differences between the people and places at home and the people and places here in Florida. Of course there’s the obvious mountains versus ocean, flat versus hilly, Appalachian versus very south. There’s more to it than that though. I was reminded of it when I was visiting and I said something to my friend Steph. We were talking about food and drink when I mentioned that “I rarely ever drink soda any more”. Steph immediately corrected me; without even looking up at me she said, “It’s called POP – you’ve been in Florida for too long”. She had subtly reminded me of who I am and where I come from with that one remark. I remember looking at her and realizing the significance of what I said, but I didn’t say anything. That moment stuck with me, and I thought about it for days. It began to dawn on me that I’d begun to speak a little differently. Saying ‘soda’ instead of ‘pop’ was huge, no one I knew in West Virginia said soda. I began to realize I’d forgotten names of places and streets in West Virginia. I had to really think hard to come up with the name of places from my past, or else I got them mixed up with places in Florida as if they were interchangeable. Bars, restaurants, streets… they all got mixed together. It made me sad to feel like I was forgetting home.

I guess that’s just what happens when you’ve been away from home for a while. You follow new paths, you meet new people, you are influenced by those new people and places whether you wish to be or not. You become a hybrid of your past and your present. Kind of like being a hybrid Pole and hillbilly I suppose. It scared me. I don’t ever want to forget where I come from. For me, it is who I am and how I define myself. I am proud of my home state and her people. Florida is where I live, but West Virginia is my home. My ex said that every time I came home from a visit to West Virginia that I had a hillbilly accent again for a few days. He thought it was funny. Although I didn’t do it on purpose, I’m glad that I carried that accent back to Florida. It was a way of holding onto home for just a little bit longer. And I want to hold tight to home, always.

The plan for me was never to stay in Florida forever. I’m actually surprised it has been 15 years; my circumstances have kept me here and that’s not necessarily a bad thing altogether. I’ve met so many wonderful and interesting people and I am grateful that our paths crossed in one way or another. I’ve been blessed to have had a good job for the past 15 years with the same company and to be able to support myself and enjoy some of the perks of living in Florida. There have been hard times as well. I try not to dwell on those, no point. Once the lesson has been learned, I have tried to turn the page. I’m not sure how long I’ll stay in Florida. My mom, Babcia, said to me, “You’ll know when it’s time to come home and then you will be here”. I know she’s right. I know she prays for me to come home. Babcia has always known my heart long before I figured it out. I guess when I know, I will know… and I’ll pack up and head north. Then maybe I’ll catch up to my heart. It’s been home all along.