Finding My Place

I’ve known many people that were always satisfied to stay in one place. Never moving very far from where they grew up. I didn’t have that gene. I was continuously searching for something or somewhere better. I’m not saying where I grew up was a lousy place.  More so, it was a beautiful place. Small town, USA. A farming community. A place where the stores closed on Wednesday afternoons and were open on Saturdays until noon. Nothing was open on Sundays except for a few restaurants and gas stations.  The town was growing and now when I visit I barely recognize the place. I might add, the traffic is horrible considering when my parents moved in there was only one traffic light in the city limits.

My searching for a better place started before I even graduated from high school.  I had no interest in college. I just wanted to find a job and save enough money to leave. Didn’t know where to, just go. And I was gone before I was twenty-one. I didn’t just move to another city. I not only moved to a different state, but I made it across the country to the west coast.  Seattle area was my stopping place. Yes the grass was greener there, but there was still something missing. Family maybe?  A year later I found myself back in my hometown.  It took me seven more years to leave again.

A lot of life events happened in those seven years, but there was still that longing to be somewhere else. I jumped at the chance to move with a job promotion.  Although happy there, the thought of somewhere better was still deep within me.

Through the years, I have lived in four more states and numerous cities. For years I would come to the mountains of Tennessee, North Carolina, and Georgia to vacation.  Camping, canoeing, kayaking, and hiking. Sever times I tried to talk my husband into moving to the area, but our jobs wouldn’t allow the move. Finally, I gave up. My time in Virginia was lovely. I spent many weekends in the Blue Ridge mountains. An opportunity came to live in Montana. A different like of beauty that almost killed the wanderlust in my veins.  Family duties moved us to Arizona. A desert is a magical place, but the heat is unbearable, even if it’s a dry heat.

When our family responsibilities came to an end, we started looking for a place to become our forever home. About time, no?  We spent hours upon hours scouring the internet looking at homes from Montana to the four corners of the Southwest, to the hill country of Texas. Then one day my husband suggested the northern mountains of Georgia. My first thought was humidity. NO! Nope, Not going to happen.  After weeks of him reminding me of how we use to vacation in the area in the summer, camping in a tent and we loved it, I finally gave in and said I would go look.

We packed up the dogs and truck and headed East! We had rented a cabin near Blue Ridge, Georgia. Even though it was winter and there was snow on the ground, I felt a peaceful calm come over me. Over the years, I had forgotten how these mountains affected me.  

A few months later we have moved into our forever home. I finally found a place that I never wish to leave. If I finish my life on this mountain, my life will be complete. I’m finally at peace with the paths I have taken. I have forgiven myself for my mistakes. I am thankful for all the good things that have happened to me and have put away all the bad stuff from the past.

I do not know if it was God who lead me here or fate, or I’m just lucky. One thing I know, this place finally killed the wanderlust from my body. Don’t get me wrong, I still have two places on my bucket list to visit, but this is home!

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