"How I'm learning to be content, at home, where I am." That's the theme for this blog, right? I moved from Florida after 11 years of calling it home. Do you know, I never really was content in Florida? Sure, I found lots of things to love about the state, people I deeply regretted leaving and miss horribly now, but I never wanted to be there. There was always something holding my heart in check, waiting for permission to leave. I never gave myself fully to the experience. Never let my heart be fully captured by the sun and sand and sandhill cranes. Or the summer storms, eternal green and the Giant Mouse. There was a part of me, true, that was happy and relieved to drive home after a road trip out of state. The smell of the ocean was wonderful, and sight of a space shuttle launching never failed to fill me with awe. Even seeing the Roseate Spoonbills in a neighbor's yard after Hurricane Charley was a thrill. But it was never really home. I never truly embraced the totality of where I was.
So how does my Tulsa experience differ? Granted, I've been here all of two months. I told myself for years that Tulsa was where I wanted to be. That Florida's lack of hills and seasons was detestable. That I'd lived away from my family for far too long. That I would only be happy if ... Do you know, I never actually used that phrase, and I fought hard against it, but somewhere deep in my heart I believed it. I believed that the grass was greener on the other side. And as ridiculous as it sounds, even to me, so far it is. Okay, the grass is very brown and squishy here right now, but it will be green soon enough.
Am I content? Am I embracing "here"? Cautiously. I think in the back of my head I'm waiting to wake up, for this to be too good to be true. I think I believe that this is a test year and we may move next Christmas. That I'm not committing to anything long-term till I KNOW. And I know from experience that that's a ridiculous way to exist -- it's not really living. So excuse me while I go live. I'll get back to you on how it's going.
Until I write again ...