There is a space between where you once were and where you are now. In that space lives two parts of one self – the half that can’t stop looking back and the half that tugs forward. I have been in that space for many months finding it hard to push the past from dominating my daily thoughts. It hasn’t been easy to come to terms with a version of myself that didn’t include weekly newsletters, grading papers, and creating my little 2nd grade bubble. It has not been easy to start once again at the beginning of a friendship when you know there are friendships in a different place where you share so much history and ease. And it hasn’t been easy getting used to a totally new climate. There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t think of someone from back home. It is kind of ridiculous how many things make the memories come. And I get sad. A lot. And I fight so hard to hold back the tears that once in a while still find me by telling myself that each month that passes is one month closer to getting back home. Because I still miss it so much.
But there is still that second part of myself. The one that keeps tugging me forward knowing that you can’t stand still forever. And I haven’t. Because dinners with new friends, playdates, and the chance to explore a new place won’t let me. I am grateful for those people that have helped my life here find some roots. They probably don’t know how a walk or a text message or an invitation to do something has helped me find happiness here. A piece of my heart will always be back east in Virginia. You can’t live somewhere for nearly 30 years and not feel that way, but now I have hope that a piece of my heart will also be here in Oregon. Because home isn’t just one place, at least not for me.