Endings and Beginnings

 I've had a lot of endings that are also beginnings. 

In fact, I've lived in Jeff's house for 3.5 years and that's the longest I've lived in a single home since I left Virginia at the age of 16. For over half of my life I have been without roots. I've lived in 9 homes in the last 12 years. That is absurd. 

And the truth is, I don't want to be rootless anymore. I want to settle in, build something I am proud of, and never have to pack another moving box in my life. This restless, wandering soul wants to plant my feet on the same ground for more years than I can count and raise my daughter like I was raised in Virginia- with lasting friends and mother-daughter book clubs and people you grow up with. I haven't had a single place I've felt was truly my home since I left Richmond as a teenager, and I am ready to change that. 

So in one week, we move to Tennessee. It is a place where a lot of our dreams lie. It is where Jeff will continue a career that he is passionate about, where we hope to breathe mountain air and hike on the weekends, and where we want Emma to find a community that she can grow up with. We are eagerly anticipating this next chapter of our lives, but to begin anew, you have to embrace an ending. 

If you know me, or anything about me, you know that Artesia, New Mexico was not on my "Top Ten Places to Live" list. It hasn't been the easiest place for me to settle in, and the isolation and lack of resources available to us has been a challenge. Many days have felt lonely. And I really hate the wind and the bugs. 

But as we leave, that's not what I will remember. 

I will remember that the farm was a soft place for me to land after 6 of the hardest, saddest, most painful years. When I came in March of 2020, it was understandably quiet, easy-going, and routine. It was what my battered soul needed. It was the one place where I finally slowed down enough to heal my body. It was a refuge.  

I will remember our beautiful community: people we stay up too late to play cards with, friends that celebrated our new baby, and kindred spirits who spoke truth and love when we needed it most. 

I will remember seeing the light on at our house, miles down the road, and knowing that Jeff turned it on so I could find my way home. Because, let's face it, even almost four years later, I still can't find our house in the dark. 

I will always be thankful for Artesia, New Mexico. I will miss everything and everyone that made our time here beautiful, for this has been a precious chapter in my life. 

I hope that in ten years I will be sitting on my porch in East Tennessee, watching the lightening bugs and seeing the leaves change color. And if I am, I will be so thankful. I will be thankful to be settled and to have a home, and I will be thankful to have known the beauty and meaning in so many good-byes.