I was asked to share My Happy Place by one of my favorite mommy bloggers Three Boys And a Mom (check out her blog if you haven’t!), and the timing couldn’t be more perfect. It’s funny. Sort of….
We just got back from my Mama’s house. We went for Thanksgiving. A long weekend. I snapped this picture from the car as we were leaving and sucked in my breath. In ways it feels like I’m still holding it.
They say home is where your heart is. It’s an idiom meant to express that home can be with the ones you love. But they got the saying wrong. They should have said, home is who your heart is with. My heart is with my husband and son. I’d be completely lost without them. But my home is not Denver. We just live here.
My home will always be on the West slope. That’s my where. It’s where I grew up, in a tiny little town that you’d miss if you blinked your eye while in passing. It’s where I returned after college, after park rangering a summer, and personal assisting in Aspen a year, to teach–at the same high school from which I graduated. It’s where I bought my first (and still only) house-a tiny town home that my once fiance said I’d never be able to do on my own. It’s where I run into the only Starbucks in town and see 5 people I know and nearly run out of breath catching up in quick conversations with. It’s where I explored–mountain meadows, canyon trails, desert runs, and the inner workings of my soul. It’s where I feel like I can breathe, every time we go back to visit my mom & dad for a day or a few.
My happy place is there–in that small town with the ones I love most. Watching the deer with my dad and son from their front window. Leaving Easton with my parents (the first time in 10 months since we don’t really know anyone in Denver well enough to ask) to take a walk around the lake I used to bike past so often. It’s seeing my brother become an uncle. Seeing my sister as a mother. Seeing former students with their own children at the grocery store. Seeing former teachers, and though I worked with them as a teacher, still not being able to call them by their first names. Seeing more open space and clean, blue skies–hearing cows and chickens in the distance instead of traffic sounds. It’s the gentle ebbs and flows that the mountains seem to make–as if they were waving to me like a familiar friend.
That’s my happy place. And these last few years, I haven’t really been happy like that here. I know it sounds like I’m complaining. I don’t mean to. I’m incredibly blessed to have a husband who works hard everyday, who is my best friend, who is willing to grow and learn and share and change with me everyday. I’m insanely in love with my son–his curiosity and sweet personality that is showing itself more and more each day. Nothing beats that. I’d chose them over that place any day.
I did choose it. I left my happy place for love. Love isn’t a place. Home isn’t where my heart is. My home is on the West slope, but as long as I’m with my husband and son, there’s no place I’d rather be. And it took writing this to fully understand it for me.
So there it is. And if you’re reading this, I’d love to hear what your happy place is or about the ones you love most. Let me know in the comments or write a post & link back to your site.
You can never hear enough good news, you know?