2.) What would it take for you to pick up and move?
Not a lot. (I am a Sagittarius, you know.)
I have always felt restless since I moved here almost 19 years ago.
I miss the ocean so terribly. I miss the jungle.
I want to see all there is to see in this beautiful world. I want my kids to see it too.
They LOVE to travel and we all can’t wait for the next vacation (the minute we get home I think.)
My family has a dream to travel the world for a full year. We want to rent a house every 3-4 months in a different area (Europe, Asia, South America, Australia, North America) and just use that as a hub to travel from for a specific time period. It is a beautiful thought that keeps me going when the days are grey.
But then I wonder…
Is this a test?
I moved a total of 19 times in my life (about 17 or so were before I was an adult) and as a result I think I never feel like I’m “at home.”
We never feel satisfied with what we have. (The house is too small, the yard too strange, etc.)
My husband and I love house-hunting. A fun weekend for us is going to open houses on Sundays. (Our kids hate us for this.) We even used to take long walks when we were dating to look at houses and make mental notes of what we wanted one day.
Should I just learn to be still?
I like my friends and my neighbors, my kids’ school and extra-curriculars. I love knowing that my family is close and that I have people I can call if I’m in a pinch.
We’ve become so established/comfortable here and didn’t even realize it.
But to me a house is just a place to rest your head, home is where my family is.
Sometimes I think we like to travel so much just because the family gets to be together for the whole trip. It makes me happy to think we like each other that much!
Would I take off if you gave me a suitcase and a ticket (well, five tickets?)
But, now I might want to come back!
The snow is gone here.
Well, actually they say some might be coming today, but I doubt it…
I took these pics (last week) while driving my kids to their science class at the 4H center in the country.
The sad thing is that it’s not really the country anymore.
Suburbs are oozing out that way. I noticed these woods, these sacred ones we always sigh when we go through (well, the kids are yelling “Go faster, it’s the roller coaster part!” over the bumps) had a big FOR SALE sign in them.
My heart dropped out of me, even without the bumps.
On the way back I saw a HUGE red fox slink across the road and into the woods.
My heart aches.
Made me feel like quoting the morose Miss Emily D…
There’s a certain Slant of light, Winter Afternoons– That oppresses, like the Heft, Of Cathedral Tunes–
Heavenly Hurt, it gives us– We can find no scar, But internal difference, Where the Meanings, are–
None may teach it–Any– ‘Tis the Seal Despair– An imperial affliction Sent us of the air–
When it comes, the Landscape listens– Shadows–hold their breath– When it goes, ’tis like the Distance On the look of Death–
1.) Why are you burned out?
2.) Write a poem about a time someone made you smile.
3.) A list of 10 reasons you do or do not drink coffee.
4.) An open letter to a celebrity.
5.) That one time you met your online friend in real life (was it everything you thought it would be?)
With my youngest starting kindergarten life has been different.
Now, my life is busy but too quiet (except for dogs and chickens) until they come home. In the noisy car yesterday Jac wanted to know what it meant to go to the *principal’s office.
*Note that my kids’ principal is the sweetest person ever.
Jac: “What do they do in the principal’s office?” Max: “Put you in the chokey,” Me: “Well, it depends on what you do. Talk to you about it, call your parents, kick you out of school…” Jac: “Oh. Did you ever go the principal’s office mom?” Me: “Never. I was a good girl. ” (true) “Well, okay three times. The first was when I was in kindergarten.” (also true) Kids: “When you were in KINDERGARTEN?!! WHAT did you DO, mom?” Me: “Well, there was this boy who was my friend. I thought he was pretty cute. I was goofing off at lunch and pretended to pour my milk on his head, but my milk was all gone. Well, I thought it was all gone but found out it wasn’t when he got doused with milk, so I was sent to the office.” Jac: “What did the principal do?” Me: “She laughed and told me not to do it again.” Max: “Wow, you were lucky mom.”