It was a weird trip back to Salina after a wonderful break to Kansas City for Thanksgiving. When it’s time for the holidays, I pack up and leave for my parent’s home in Kansas City, the town where I was raised. I was packing my things and my mom asked me what time I was headed home, and I responded. Obviously, since it seemed so minute, I didn’t really think too much of it, until I was headed down I-70. I felt kind of giddy and I couldn’t figure out why and then it hit me: I was going home.

And you’re like, “duh, you live here,” and I know! I have for going-on six years now. But for the first time ever, I knew that Salina was home, and not my parents’ place in the city.

It’s kind of a weird transition for me. When I went to Kansas City, I was complaining about the commutes and not knowing people when I went out. I’ve just gotten so comfortable here, I think that I’m going to root here in Salina. It’s not a bad thing. I know exactly where everything is. I’ve eaten at just about every restaurant in town. The smell of Cozy Inn hangs strong in my nostrils and I love the feeling of Now, That’s What I Call Entertainment. When I meet listeners, it makes my heart burst.

So you’ve done it, Salina. You’ve ruined me. I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to call another place home again. But the joke’s on you, guys. I’m here to stay. I love you, and like a parasite I’m not letting go of my host. So you better learn to love parasites.