I like where I live. I was born and raised here, and the Spouse is from a town only an hour east of here. Our city is friendly, familiar, and fun. We know how to live in a college town. We wear the right colors on Saturday and cheer for the hometown team. Tonight when our men’s basketball team plays a big tournament game, we will watch in eager expectation.
But sometimes I start to doubt our sense of place and belonging. I’m not a diehard team fan. Don’t get me wrong, I’m wearing a University of Tennessee sweatshirt today and proudly own several orange shirts and a pair of statement checkerboard leggings. But the outcome of tonight’s game will have absolutely no affect on my mood or my respect for Rick Barnes come tomorrow morning. We like orange, but we don’t necessarily bleed orange. And sometimes this makes us feel a bit out of place.
I’m very prone to wonder if the grass might not be greener in some other city. Maybe we’re missing out by staying where we know and are known?
The Spouse had coffee with our pastor this morning and shared with him this truth: we’re just not sure where we best fit in. For both of us, our biggest frustration at the 40-years-old mark is not being able to find that sweet spot where our place, passion, and purpose align. On my most discontent days, I want to pack us up and move to Nashville. In my head it’s a big Southern city full of art and culture, career opportunities in editing and publishing, and close enough to home to feel familiar. But we don’t have a compelling reason to move to Nashville. The Spouse’s business is here, our girls are content here, and both of our extended families are grounded in East Tennessee. Nashville would be exciting, but it doesn’t make sense.
On my most adventuresome days I think maybe I was made for the Northeast. I’ve always been infatuated with that area of the country. Boston, New York, Philadelphia… they all seem to have so much history and pride and potential. Last week we traveled up that way to Pennsylvania and saw everything from the expansive farms in Amish country to the hustle bustle of downtown Philly. I think one of the best things about travel is the opportunity it gives us to experience a tiny taste of what life looks like and feels like for people in other places. Upon seeing the Amish way of life, I knew immediately that I couldn’t be one. We’ll just start with the fact that they make their own clothes. I’m out already. Not to mention the fact that they also make their own bread, their own furniture, and build their own houses… all without electricity, technology, or complaint. How in the world?
But upon seeing the city dwellers in Philadelphia, I’m not sure I could do that life well either. If it’s below 72 degrees outside, I’m wearing a coat and concerned about how chilly it is. The people up there survive brutal winters, consider 50 degrees to be balmy, walk ten miles to get to a Target, use paper straws, and can parallel park on a busy street in their sleep.
We’re just suburbanites trying to figure out how to order a good Philly cheesesteak and get back to our minivan at the museum before it gets towed. And where is the nearest Starbucks?? We need a souvenir mug before we leave.
I love exploring the Northeast and its beautiful big cities. I imagine they are an exciting, fitting place for many. But those cities wouldn’t make much sense for us. I have to travel to remind myself where we feel most like ourselves. Where we belong. I love this quote by Henry David Thoreau:
Only the traveling is good which reveals to me the value of home and allows me to enjoy it better.”
Sometimes that’s what a week spent somewhere else does. It just helps remind me that here is home. Even on its most unglamorous days and even if I’m not leading the pep rallies.
Today home is also where the family dog is experimenting with a new and most appropriate hair color. When I went to greet her this morning her feet were solid green. Apparently the Spouse walked her in the neighbor’s freshly cut grass and she picked up a little color. This picture is after I tried to clean her up. Prior to her wipe down she looked eerily similar to Oscar the Grouch.
For sure, there is green grass to be found around here.
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