...and Miles to Go Before I Sleep

I am in the midst of moving back to the West despite protests and claims of "we'll never see you again" by my immediate family.

Currently, I am calling Burlington my place of residence, but it's not my home. Church Street and the environs are great, but this is the first time I've moved to a new city and felt absolutely no connection. The bitter cold that rushes off the towers of ice along the waters that make up Lake Champlain tears through me, and seeps into my bones. I'm told that one bad season makes-up for the remaining three; however, I don't need someone to tell me what I already know.

I am a Northwest girl. Plain and simple. I was born on the wrong coast; the Pacific Northwest with its geographic ingenuity intrigues me as it wraps its evergreens around me and the deep blue Pacific calls me to come back.

I can't explain it; however, I have to come to realize that home isn't necessarily where you were born or where you grew up. Home isn't where you hang your hat; home is where your heart and soul mingle peacefully with your mind. Home is where routine is anything but, and the simple act of getting the paper and sugar cookies from the bakery is something to look forward to.

Since I was a child, I've been restless. My wanderlust has taken me to many beautiful areas of this country, but I am grounded in one place. Of course, when I move back there, it won't be the same---so many things have changed; some for the better and some for the worse. My heart was broken and the pieces left no longer fit together seamlessly, but finding the glue to at least join them together again will seem more fitting in a place that knew me before I was born.

Moving away from family and friends doesn't mean you love them any less; in fact, I think it makes you love them even more because you appreciate them more and forget about the "little things" that cause petty arguments.

I have another journey ahead of me, and I hope it is the last. Within the next 6-8 months, I will drive more than 2,400 miles to Portland alone with just the memories of the route Sam and I took together to begin a time in our lives that was simply wonderful.

Eight years later, it will just be me and one of the three dogs we once shared. I'm sure I'll shed many tears stopping by the places we shared (the beef jerky place in Wyoming; the non-stop rush-hour traffic in Chicago; and the Portland skyline coming into view).

However, once I get there, I know I won't lose any more sleep knowing I'm going back home.