I write this as I sit on American Airlines Flight 2339 toward JFK airport.

I usually call this trip “going home” but then I end up correcting myself.

“I’m heading to the east coast to see my family.”

I don’t really know where to call home right now.

I ponied up the 10 bucks for AMC+ so I could download the final season of Mad Men.

That’s where my head has been buried the last few weeks as I avoid the pain of breaking up with my girlfriend of almost 4 years.

I love her and I will miss her deeply, and this is what is best for both of us.

It’s Easter Sunday and I’m 35-years-old today.

Yup, my birthday is 4/20 and no, I don’t smoke much weed anymore though getting high certainly sounds like another wonderful distraction right now, so maybe I will.

I have not been processing this breakup in a way that I would like to.

The strong masculine Matt would do a better job of holding this pain and allow himself to grieve.

I’d be journaling more.

Sitting in silence more.

Going to bed at a more reasonable hour.

Giving myself more space to sit with all this.

But I can’t do it.

I don’t want to do it.

We still live together and some evenings when I take our her dog, Telly, out for her evening potty I stare up at the stars and weep.

I oscillate between knowing what’s right in my heart and the fear of making a giant mistake.

Life has been incredible with her.

One morning we ran to the bottom of the grand canyon and back up before 10am.

We reached Cloud’s Rest in Yosemite on a 22 mile run.

We raced 40 miles from Crested Butte to Aspen in the Rocky Mountains to complete our first ultra marathon.

We camped at the edges of Mount Rainier as the summer rain pounded the car and our puppy nestled between our warm bodies.

We drove the Kia Telluride to Telluride, Colorado so Telly would know her namesake.

We sang made up theme songs for every National Park we visited.

Like so many couples we have countless inside jokes we blurt out as if they were part of our vernacular since we were a kids.

Those will end with our separation along with the man I am with her.

It’s hard.

So I fled “home” for 35.

I want to be taken care of by mom, dad and brother.

I want to remember what it’s like to be a kid again.

When life was simple.

I want to watch my dad peal off his suit jacket on a hot summer evening as he exits the train from New York City and picks up his baseball glove to prepare the Devil Rays for our little league championship game.

I want to play water basketball at the town pool, order mozzarella sticks for lunch and flirt with the girls from my brothers grade, but never be bold enough to move in for my first kiss.

I want to stand in the backyard just after sunset as the bats begin to fly overhead with the smell of grass stains on my knees knowing dinner is waiting for me inside.

I don’t want to be heartbroken.

I want to feel at home again.

This weekend, my mom will tell me, “time heals all” as she delivers me a fresh plate of lasagna.

My dad will take me golfing and remind me to, “turn your left shoulder.”

We will head to Citi Field for the Mets game and I’ll cheer for the team I dreamt of playing for.

We will drive up to Rhode Island where we used to take summer vacations to see my brother and his wife.

We will play tennis and I’ll feel it in my knees.

The people who love me most in this world will sing me Happy Birthday and I might just break down and cry.

While life has it’s challenges, I have always had my family.

I know not everyone can say that.

I know how lucky I am.

My mom, dad, and brother have always been there for me.

When my heart aches, their heart aches.

When I win, they win.

When I look back on 35 years of life, the only constant has been their love.

It’s their love that made it easy to quit civil engineering and dive into the unknown world of entrepreneurship 7 years ago.

I don’t know where to call home right now so I boarded a plane toward the place where I don’t need one.

Not because my family has the all answers, but because with them, I’ll be okay without any.

With love,

Matt