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Wednesday night at a small college group gathering that has been taking place long before election night, we gathered and talked about the election, and more specifically: What exactly does “change” mean? That was never clear to me throughout Barack Obama’s campaign, to be 100% honest. But, hearing his victory speech, this segment stuck out to me the most:

The beginning of spring and the end of summer in Washington always manage to remind me of my childhood in Florida. Something about the lighting, the pattern of sun and rain, some indescribable feeling of the months of May and August always seem to make me nostalgic for the backdrop of the first eight years of my life. Most of the time you’ll hear me say that the only thing I miss about Florida is the thunderstorms. But that’s not true. I miss the road trips. I miss the lazy heat-bathed days. I miss pre-hurricane season when I would prepare my closet to be a hurricane shelter and invariably make my mom mad months later when I had forgotten about it and cockroaches began to swarm.

Living “on my own” is weird. Somehow, with the signing of a lease, I became a clean freak. You can ask my mom — at home I tended to be a slob; leaving dishes lying around, my stuff littered across the house… and it would take much harassing to get me to do the simplest of chores. But now that I have my own place, I can’t seem to stop cleaning it.