This is my home…

When I look out the windows as darkness falls, I’m searching for fireflies that aren’t going to appear. It’s odd since I’ve lived most of my life without their happy little glow lighting up my summer evenings. But, I’m waiting for them anyway. And, whenever I think of fireflies, I’m reminded of an evening visiting with good friends in Ithaca several years ago. We sat outside staring at the field behind their house. As the night slipped into inky blackness that entire field lit up with thousands of little dots blinking in the darkness. Really, more like tens of thousands. They were everywhere we looked. It was truly amazing, one of the most fabulous things I’ve ever seen.

Come fall, I’ll miss the hills covered with autumnal shades of green, gold, red and, my particular favorite, orange. There will be some color changes here, of course, but not like in Upstate New York. I have no doubt that I’ll miss that massive display of shifting colors every October and November for the rest of my life. I might not miss the raking though…

Then, as the days grow shorter and shorter, I will wonder where all of the snow is. I will miss putting on my warmest boots and stomping around the yard with the dogs. I’ll miss Mr. C sledding down our little hill until his nose and cheeks are snow-fun-red and he bursts into the house, breathless and begging for some hot cocoa.

Next spring, I will yearn for the week when all of the trees leaf out at once and the new leaves are the exact color of Spring Green from my childhood box of crayons. It wasn’t until I lived in Corning that I finally understood why they gave that color of crayon that particular name. Really, people, I simply didn’t know.

As for New York City, I don’t even know how to begin to say goodbye. If you read my love letter to the city earlier in my blog, you’ll understand what I’m talking about. Instead, I’ll simply say à bientôt. Keep a light on for me. I don’t know when, I don’t know how, but I will return for you.

Goodbye, New York! I’m going to miss you and all of the amazing friends who stepped in to help when I needed them most.

Hello, Washington! I’ve been missing you for five years now and I’m thrilled to be back even if it feels familiar and not familiar all at the same time. The trees are taller than I remembered. And they are so green. But a deep forest green. Then there are the mountains. I cannot even begin to describe how it makes me feel to look out at the horizon and see their jagged peaks, some still sporting whitecaps, even now in late-July. I got my first glimpse of Mount Rainier the other day and just about cried with happiness. It’s like seeing a dear friend for the first time in years. And, being close to Seattle is going to satisfy my needs nicely. I’ve really missed being near a city.

Next spring I will trek to the tulip fields north of Seattle and stand amid an enormous sea of color gently bowing in the cool spring breeze. This winter I will be thankful that things inside my garage aren’t actually freezing and that the roads, and my car, aren’t perpetually coated in a gritty, salty mess. And if I want the full snow-higher-than-my-head experience, Hurricane Ridge is not too far to drive for a day of play. This fall I will pick crisp apples and revel in the Pumpkin Walk on Bainbridge Island. Plus, it’s a guarantee that we’ll find time to partake in one of Mr. C’s all-time favorite activities, getting lost in a corn maze. But, this summer I will relax and enjoy the masses of blackberries growing wild everywhere I look while spending time with some of my favorite people on earth. So, there may be some trade offs, but I know my decision to return was the right one, both for me and for my child.

I wish I could say that I feel like I’m finally home. But, I can’t. In the past few years, I’ve realized that I don’t actually have my own little corner of Earth to call home. And that’s ok. The world is big. There are a lot of places I’ve never been. Maybe I simply need to keep exploring them one by one until I discover the exact spot that makes me feel like I belong. Or, perhaps I don’t have just one. Maybe for me home is a combination of everywhere I’ve ever been or want to be. I suppose it’s even possible that I don’t need a specific geographical point to call home because I find what I need inside myself. This is an idea I need to ponder, maybe during my next long-distance car trip.

I kid you not, as I began typing that last paragraph, my iPod shuffled onto the perfect song. It was so perfect that I actually stopped and stared at my speakers for a second to make sure I wasn’t imagining the crazy convergence of thought and music. So, as I wrap up my 2016 cross-country adventure tale, I’d like to quote Ingrid Michaelson’s song, Home, “This is my home. This is my home. Where I go when I’ve got nowhere else to go. This is my home. Where I go when I don’t know where else to go.”

Please check back next week for a new post. I’m going to cut back to once a week (because, you know, I do need to find an actual, paying job – let me know if you have any leads!), but I’m not done yet, people. I have more adventures ahead and I’m going to share them with you.

Thanks for reading!