image via ella frances sanders.
This is not a post about LeBron.
Okay, it is a little bit about LeBron.
I'm not anti-LBJ, but I'm not sure that I'm pro-LBJ either. You hear stories on both sides: praising him, and ripping him to shreds. Which comes with the territory, I'm sure.
Four years ago, on my way to Brazil, I sat in the Miami airport and watched The Decision. Yesterday, I sat at my desk at Brighton Landing and read the article. No capitalization, no fanfare, just a letter. A story.
What a difference four years makes, huh?
I'm coming home.
Is there any other sentence so loaded, so emotional, so completing? Maybe "I love you," but if you think about it, I'm coming home is really just another way to say that.
I'm coming home is like a love letter to your city, your people, your memories.
No matter how you left, why you left, or how long you've been gone, when you say those three words, it heals a lot. Just look at LeBron. "I'm going back to Cleveland" would have just been a way of saying "I'm ditching Miami." There likely would have been more burned jerseys, more talk of greed and disloyalty. But I'm coming home made us all stand up and cheer. No one can argue with that, because we can all relate.
In two days, I'm going back to Cullman. I'll only be there for less than 12 hours before leaving again, but I can't wait to say those words:
I'm coming home.