When I woke up last week and rolled lazily over to face the window, all I could see was blue sky and palm trees.
Another beautiful Florida morning.
My options were boundless: a quick drive over to the beach, a dip in the pool, a long run outside as the warm day unfolded.
Or I could board a plane at noon bound for a trip to New York, where a nor'easter had dropped 18 inches of snow just days before.
I could forsake Florida's warm weather and Southern hospitality in favor of a snowy city swarming with yellow cabs and impatient commuters.
And while New York affords gourmet restaurants, unparalleled shopping and more jobs than my suburban hometown, it was a struggle to make the choice that morning.
As I finally decided to board the plane (my $280 ticket weighing heavily into that decision), I felt like Regis Philbin was demanding in my ear, "Is that your final answer?"
The older we get, which at this point is not even very old, the more we start to think about where we want to end up after college. For some of us, it's as close to family as possible.For others, we need at least a few time zones between us and our kin.
While I pondered this question on my 11-hour drive back to Charlottesville on Sunday, I realized that my home in the South is becoming increasingly appealing.
While I don't like to rely on stereotypes to help tell my stories, I can't help but mention the South's slower pace, it's good manners and the way biscuits made from scratch can melt in your mouth like butter.
The warmer weather is a nice little perk too -- although Virginia is considered the South, it sure feels freezing here to me.
At this point, you true Southerners may be thinking I'm a fraud. After all, Florida is often considered the redheaded stepchild of the Southern family. We can't vote correctly, and goodness knows we've got some bad drivers.
For those of you who read my column often, you'll know that I'm one of those bad drivers.
You may also call my credibility into question when you learn that I'm a half-breed: my mother was born and raised in the South but my father is (gasp!) a Yankee.
Actually, he is from the mid-West and has lived in the South for so long that we've even got him saying "y'all" from time to time.But whenever my parents have an argument or my dad does something that my mama doesn't like, you can hear her mutter under her breath, "Go home, Yankee."
Despite some of the evidence to the contrary, my roots run deep in Southern soil.While South Beach might not have that Southern charm, northern and central Florida still have a right to call themselves Southern.
And so do I.
Even though we may not have Tiffany's or Saks Fifth Avenue, the South has treasures that money can't buy.
I'd still take a tall glass of lemonade on a friend's front porch over a seat in a crowded, trendy bar with a $15 martini.
And while big, Northern cities have glamour and glitz, they just don't have one very important thing: my family.
Even part of my dad's family migrated south from Illinois, so we're all in one place.
Our proximity makes for some irreplaceable memories and moments that I couldn't forsake for an address up north.
For instance, my roommates asked me to bring back some Florida oranges after Winter Break as a belated Christmas present. Instead of picking up some from the local produce stand, I called on my uncle for some help.
He handpicked oranges from a grove that's been in our family for almost 100 years, and he threw in a few grapefruits too.It made the gift to my roommates that much sweeter.
No pun intended.
This quaint anecdote reminds me that there's another element of Southern life that I treasure almost as much as family: the land.
Although "Gone with the Wind" may be a gross misrepresentation of life in the South, it still offers some undying truths.
I remember my mom telling me to pay special attention to the scene where Mr. O'Hara tells Scarlet, "Land is the only thing that matters, Katie Scarlet, it's the only thing that lasts."
In the South, land is our legacy, a gift we pass on from generation to generation.
It's a gift that represents the blood, sweat and tears of those that came before us. In turn, the land becomes our responsibility and our gift to our children.
So how could I pass up this gift, and a chance to be near my family?
There's no telling what turns our lives may take. I could fall in love with a "Yankee" like my mother did and leave the South.
Although these days I have a hard enough time committing to a shampoo for more than a week, so let's not talk relationships.
It's more likely, I suppose, that a job offer will come knocking and tempt me away from the land of lemonade and luncheons.
It's always possible they could offer me a corner office, an apartment in Central Park, my own private chauffer.
Hey, maybe it would be a good idea to get me off the roads anyway.
But it would take much more than that to leave behind my family, our land, our legacy.
Sure, the North may offer fame and fortune to recent college grads.
But frankly my dear, I don't give a damn.
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