Part 34: Of Cornfields and Heartstrings

Here I am on an airplane, heading back to Florida after my annual pilgrimage to my hometown in Michigan. For whatever reason, this trip hit different.

As I packed my bags back up this morning to make my way home, my heart felt so heavy. So much so that I was dangerously* close to tears as I gave my goodbye hugs and "good boy" pets.

On the drive to the airport, I was soaking in the sights of my beautiful home state. I cracked the windows, breathing in that cornfield-and-wildflower-scented air — clean, unpolluted, familiar down to my core. And with every inhale, my heart broke just a little more.

-We learned about "corn humidity" this trip. WTH.

It broke for what was. The nostalgia of childhood. The homes I lived in for decades. The heartbreak of first loves, of true loves. The unshakable memories of my dad and brother — two of the greats. The dream job in the perfect little town. The friends who knew me before I ever had to explain myself.

And my heart breaks for the version of me who existed just a few years ago — blissfully unaware of the plot twist that was coming. She didn’t know she’d end up alone in Florida, caring for a mother with dementia who no longer remembers her name. She didn’t know she’d lose her hair — all of it — and have to keep showing up every day like that wasn’t a complete identity crisis. She didn’t know she’d be rebuilding her career from scratch. Poor thing. She had no idea.

But here we are.

Back on this airplane.

Back to life.

Back to reality.

And I just wanted you to know… I’m verklempt today.

I also thought maybe you needed a reminder — the same one I gave myself today on my drive to the airport — to take stock of the good stuff in your life this summer. Things like: Home. Friends. Family. Corn. SkyClub access.

And even more advice, since I seem to love being a little bossy these days:

If you’re not in Florida: Treasure the sun-kissed days. Roll your windows down. Sit on the dock. Make a memory.

If you are in Florida: Stay inside. Stockpile your hurricane snacks. Walk your dog before 7am. Only wear your cheap wigs.**

And to all of you: Hold the baby. Give the dog some of your steak. Take the drunk photo***. Hug your best friend like you mean it. Live your life - yes, even if you are bald.

Not that I’m telling you what to do.

(But yeah, I kind of am.)

Much love,  

Kristina 💖  

kristina@unexpectedlybald.com

Read The Next Post (Please)

*Yes, I still haven’t cried since 2022. I’m consistent, if nothing else.

**Cuz humidity

***

-"Possibly" have had too many French martinis.

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