“Drizzle, Drazzle, Druzzle, Drome; Time for this one to come home.”

Once upon a time — not in a fairytale, but in real life — I found myself approaching my 30th birthday. That year, let me tell you, wasn’t dressed in ribbons or celebration. No cake, no candles, no chorus of “Happy Birthday.” Just me, standing in the middle of what felt like the unraveling of everything I knew.

My husband and I had separated. The kids were with him, and I was suddenly alone for the first time in years. That silence can be deafening when you’ve spent your life in the chaos of family and noise. Now I was a winter baby in the coldest winter of my life — and I don’t just mean the temperature.

I had moved in with someone new, someone younger. I think, in some way, I was trying to outrun the clock, trying to rewrite my story before I even knew how to read the chapter I was in. Turning 30 hit hard. I had expected it to feel grown-up, settled, figured out. But instead, it felt like quicksand — moments of joy swallowed by waves of confusion, highs that barely lasted before crashing into lows.

Life had become a ride of ups and downs and downs and ups. Some days I felt like I was floating, other days I could barely catch my breath. And then one day, in a quiet moment, I remembered a line from an old cartoon I used to watch as a kid:

“Drizzle, Drazzle, Druzzle, Drome; Time for this one to come home.”

And just like that, something clicked.

It was time to come home — not just to a place, but to myself. To the version of me that I had put on pause while trying to be everything for everyone else. To the girl who used to dream in color and speak with purpose. It was time to stop chasing peace in others and start building it within me.

Coming home wasn’t a straight line. It was a journey made of journal pages, long walks, tears in the shower, and the quiet whisper of self-forgiveness. But I made it. Or maybe I should say — I’m making it. Because coming home isn’t just a destination. It’s a practice. A choice. A return to self.

So if you’re reading this and life feels sideways — if you’re in your own season of unraveling — just know this: your journey is sacred. And when you’re ready, the door to yourself is always open.

Drizzle, Drazzle, Druzzle, Drome.

Time for this one — for all of us — to come home.