From the time I was born until we bought this house, I had lived in sixteen different houses/apartments/college dorms (and that is not counting the four-times-a-year room changes throughout high school). I think I got that number right. I am never sure how to count the moves where I went to one place but my parents went to another where I would go on holidays. I was a girl on the move. So is that why I keep getting an urge to start packing up and searching for houses?
When I was asked to speak at church on behalf of the stewardship committee a few years back I realized that we had been members of FVPC for longer than I had ever belonged to anything in my life! (family aside) So it was no surprise to me today as I drove home from shipping Grandma and Grandpa Felde's Girl Scout Cookies to Indy that I caught sight of one of our dear friends from church. She was headed in to work carrying some flowers for someone, just that kind of sweet person. And my thoughts turned to all the things I love about this place being home. All the wonderful neighbors, the teachers we adore, the park district classes that I'd be adrift without, the parks and bike paths the kids know by heart, Grandma and Grandpa, two Great Grandma's, and a handful of other relatives nearby. I have never felt so connected to a place.
And yet there still lingers this need to explore and challenge myself to something new. Oregon has been one place that I keep thinking about. I think the idea of a place similar to this but with more moisture in the air would be like a middle ground of all my worlds. If that is possible! I dream about a place where the kids could have a woods or a creek in our own backyard to play in every day. Somewhere where Jeremy's work would not be so far away as to make our days apart seem endless. Somewhere a little more tranquil, no teenagers dealing drugs in the parking lot next to our house.