It reminded me of home...of the Apalachicola River and the Gulf Coast. Where my great-great-great...grandparents lived and raised their families. Where I, too, lived...until this last decade.
Home.
At times I question what that is for me and my family anymore. Moving from place to place as we do and have done for the past 8 years. Forty-eight of our united states, a dozen different countries...where is home?
I sometimes feel the guilt creeping in...the nagging voice of "society" that says we must stick to one place. Live, raise your kids, and die all on one little square of soil. I let the words of strangers make me sad for my children, they certainly haven't lived a stationary life. Are they missing out by traveling as much as we do? Would they be better served if we picked a spot and just stayed there? Hmm...
Then I open my eyes...I look at my happy children and I know the truth. Our truth. Home is more that a physical dot on the map, it's a feeling inside.
It doesn't matter which state we are in or even which continent we are on.
I know it's sappy, but as long as my family is together in one place...that place is home. And for those times when the tug is there to return to some place that feels familiar and comforting, we have only to travel as far as the nearest shoreline. The sounds of the water, the steady breeze, the rocks and sand...they are like a big hug...welcoming us back home.
Thanks for the big welcome Oregon...xoxo
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