We are home after our long weekend to visit family. Each time we visit them and then return here, it feels less and less like we are coming home, even though this has been our home for the last 4 1/2 years and up until a couple months ago we had no plans of ever leaving. But now when we go see my family, and drive the roads I grew up on, and connect with our community there, and picture raising our family there, leaving feels wrong and I just can’t wait to get back there. Back to the home I left 11 years ago.

The countdown has started. 8 1/2 months and we’ll lock the door on our life here and start over there. Of course we’ll come back here to visit, because we do love it. It just lacks family, which is what we crave now. The idea of starting all over is scary. We had a very difficult transition when we moved here and I know moving there won’t be with out challenges. Almost daily I start to worry: can we afford to live there, will A get a job that will support us, will we miss the liberal oasis of where we currently live (of course we will!), how will we afford it – these thoughts run through my head and my chest begins to tighten, when I remember, we’re moving to be with family, my parents will help us, we’ll have so much more support there. Suddenly all my fears wash away. It seems so easy and so right.

We want to be there now, and that’s hard. I don’t want to rush the time we have here. Or my pregnancy. And I know having four months here – just the three of us – after the baby is born will be really good for us as we grow into our new family. And I don’t want to ignore all that I love about where we live – especially as we enter the fall, which is so beautiful here. So I do struggle daily not to let my job get the best of me and to fully take in my last fall, winter, and spring here, with out wishing I were somewhere else.

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