Home is....

"Keep close to Nature's heart... 

and break clear away, once in awhile, 

and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods. 

Wash your spirit clean."

-John Muir

What my Montana looks like in my memories

They say home is where the heart is - but what if your heart and soul are in two different places?

My family - they are my heart - my life, my love.

My soul - it’s rooted deep in the mountains - buried in a canyon, a valley, a ridgeline. It’s lost at the end of a winding trail somewhere between the Prairies and the Rockies, the Little Belts, the Missouri river.

“The mountains are calling and I must go.” - John Muir

Every Autumn I fight the wanderlust that calls to my soul. It’s a mountain melancholy song that sings to my entire being - tempting me and tormenting me at the same time.

The past years I’ve sought solace in the mountains of Georgia, Tennessee and North Carolina. I also spent a few days in the mountains surrounding Seattle with a kindred spirit from my past. I left my heart in Florida when I made that trip and it was a good thing my heart was in Florida - otherwise I might not have returned.

Fifteen years ago I left Montana - I’ve never returned. I’m afraid that if I did go back I would not want to come back to Florida. I’ve spent the past 12 years here in Florida trying to learn to love it.

There are things I love about my life here. I love it when the weather changes so the mornings are crisp. The cool breezes coat my anxious soul with a thin layer of patience as I anticipate the cooler season here. The days I can take my family outside to enjoy nature without an army of mosquitoes, biting flies and danger of heat stroke are few and far between. The beach at sunset is breathtaking but despite the childish joy of my children as they relish the sand and sea - I have not learned to like the sensation of sand between my toes. I would take a sunset over the prairies in an instant.

I suffer from much guilt at my unrest. Three beautiful, healthy children - a husband who loves me unconditionally - and I am often unhappy with the location of our life.

Last year I missed the mountains - the timing of my pregnancy’s ending and my normal trip to Georgia with the kids clashed and I was not able to travel that distance. Our usual winter vacation found us traveling south to visit my parents’ in their new home instead of traveling north as we had considered. Life sometime necessitates change that is unwelcome. I mourned the loss of my yearly reconnection with the mountains almost as much as I mourned the moving of my parents 8+ hours away.

Having no family close by to spend time with breaks my heart. I miss my mom and dad being here. They were the glue that kept my siblings and I together. I still see my brother and sister some, but not as nearly as we would like. Family - something so important to me - scattered in a moment when I most needed them around me last year. We were all depressed about this. It was an unwelcome change for us all. Having never had close family nearby as a child - I found myself spoiled the past 7 years having my mother minutes away. Welcoming a baby without the constant support and presence of my mom was so very different and difficult.

“Everybody needs beauty as well as bread,

 places to play in and pray in, 

where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul.” 

-John Muir

This mountain melancholy is hitting me harder than normal this year because Michael and I are trying to decide where we want to live the rest of our lives here in the Panhandle. I feel like my dissatisfaction in Florida is causing me to be indecisive. How can I choose a place to live and raise my children here when it’s not the place I want to be?

We want it to be our last home - the one where our children will be tweens and teenagers, graduate high school and move on to college  - maybe even get dressed for a wedding or two, or three. It’s because of this that I feel this immense pressure.

There is no room for mistakes.

What if the place we decided upon isn’t right? What if we hate being so far away from our current life in Niceville? What if we hate the schools? What if my friends never come to visit?

I feel like I’m giving up a lot of what I want in life by choosing to go out to Santa Rosa Beach. I’ve always wanted a farmhouse, room for my kids to run, maybe a few chickens and room for a garden. If my kids are in public school I want it to be a place where I can be involved and not burdened by rules that prohibit me from their classrooms. I’m eager to go back to homeschooling honestly. I miss my flexibility and I’m tired of fighting with Wyatt over how to write his lower case A’s because the way I teach is different from the way his teacher does. Who cares if he colors outside the lines?

Mike wants something new and in a neighborhood where there are lots of other kids.

I want those things, too, but I how much am I willing to compromise?

I know I can’t live on the what if’s.

Mike said we can go spend some time up in the mountains soon and maybe that will help me out of this funk and clear my head. The cooler weather that comes eventually will help too I hope.

I know that I’m also out of sorts because we’ve been living in a rental for almost 3 weeks with 1 more week to go. I’m tired of driving to Niceville and back to Destin every day. I’m ever more resentful every day of the rush to get up, eat breakfast, get in the car routine. I hate the “get in the van, back home, do homework, do your reading, eat dinner, get ready for bed routine.” I’m tired of trying to fit the love and wonder of life into less than 48 hours on the weekend (because let’s be honest Sunday evenings are back into the same old routine.)
Hopefully my mountain melancholy will pass or at least be lessened for a while. I find that if I can at least stifle it for most of the year I can get by.

I’ve been trying so hard to love life here.

So for now I’ll concentrate on the butterfly migrations passing through and try not to think too hard about wanting to be like the butterflies myself.