Being back in the house in which I grew up is kind of strange. It feels so familiar. Exactly the same as it was the morning I woke up here on my wedding day five years ago. It smells the same, the Tucson November feels the way it always does, and the freaking dry air still sucks the moisture out of my skin like a Hoover.
The strange part is that I find myself reverting back to old habits, feeling like I did when I lived at home so many years ago. I used to get panicky when I lived here in high school. I’d be lying in bed at night feeling restless, wondering if I was every going to get out of this dead-end place. My chest felt tight when I agonize over what I wanted to do with my life. Who did I hope to become someday? What should I be doing? Was I ever going to get away from this city that penetrates my soul with sunshine that leaves me depressed and anxious?
Living in Seattle has been the answer to my adolescent dreams and has erased those fears that I’m supposed to be doing something different with my life. I feel so much more content there, calm and happy. Even on my “bad days”. I never stop loving my charming 109-year-old house and the gentle colors outside my windows. I’m never bored there.
In Tucson, despite the fact that I’m surrounded by family, I feel lonely and antsy when I’m not up and about doing something. Don’t get me wrong, I am really enjoying the time spent with the people I love… I just miss Seattle, my husband, friends, dance community, and never-ending bustle of things to do. My home.
It’s amazing to me how quickly I have adjusted to my new life. Being here makes it evident without a doubt that Washington really is my home. Now, if my family would move there, it’d be absolutely perfect.