I recently talked to a friend of mine whom I hadn't spoken with in awhile. We were playing catch up, the typical what's-new-with-you convo. She so casually threw out there that she is moving to Wyoming. Whoa, what?! Wyoming?!
She went on to tell me that she couldn't stand living through another desert summer. That she was tired of the drama with her inner-circle. She had a strong feeling that she needed to go to Idaho Falls and check it out. So one weekend, on a whim, she packed her bag and headed for the open road. Needless to say, Idaho Falls was not the place for her.
The next day when she got in the car to head home, something inside her told her to go to Jacksonville, WY. So she did. And she loved it to say the least. It felt like home. Her decision was made, just like that.
On her drive back to the desert to prepare for her big move, once again, something came over her and she made the decision to quit her job. A job that she has been doing for the past 51 years. Luckily for her she has some connections and within no time at all she had another job lined up.
I found myself feeling so jealous. Jealous that she can just pack her bag and hop in the car to find her new home. I hate living here. It's miserable. I've been here for a very long 13 years and I've hated every minute. So why don't I pack up and head out? Because I need my family. Because I can't imagine taking my child from his grandparents, whom he loves so, so much. Because I can't imagine taking myself away from my niece and soon-to-be niece or nephew.
For me, being a parent means putting yourself second. It means making sacrifices for the betterment of your child and their happiness. So I stay.
Home may not always be where the heart is.