In Georgia there are probably places like that, but I don't know any of them. I was also reminded that despite the swaddling comfort of the place, I always wanted to get away. I wanted to see other places, be a different person. I succeeded on the first but decided against the latter. I am who I am because of the weird climate & the social norms of the Midwest - and I'm ok with that. Scalding hot summers and blizzards in the winter made me who I am apparently.
What's undeniable is that the place I call home now looks more like this. In fact, this is about 2 miles from my actual home.
That's the oldest standing house in the county, and the forest wraps around behind my own home. The rolling hills and landscaped chocked full of Georgia pines soothe me and make me feel settled now. This is where my coffee cup from the Dali museum waits, complete with a chip in the perfect spot to take a drink.
My humans are here, the ones whose breathing I often listen to in the night. I can rest for real while I'm here. I sleep harder and I wake easier in this air.
I miss home. But I love home.Tweet