We are right around the six month mark of moving to the farm.
And I'm homesick.
The only thing is ... I have no idea what I am homesick for.
I was carrying food to the ducks in one hand, the pig and sheep in the other, and I had a moment of intense sadness. I love this farm, and I know it is where I belong forever. But for the first time in my life, I am not preparing to go somewhere else. There will most likely not be a next stop for us. This is a final stop for us.
A part of that feels so amazingly wonderful. And another part of this feels incredibly scary. I've spent the last 20 years of my life knowing that each of the stops I am making will only last 2-4 years. And now I am making a stop that will last forever.
And so I feel homesick for home. This just doesn't feel like home to me yet. And as I walked I realized that home is not a place. It's a feeling. It's a people. It's a culture. It's just comfortable.
I feel a bit homesick for ...
South Florida ... the familiarity of the city I grew up in.
Kentucky ... the thrill of the college town I played basketball in.
Minnesota ... the easy downtown living and friends dropping in regularly.
Eglin AFB, Florida ... living right on the bay and the white sands of Destin.
Turkey ... and the friends and culture and cul-de-sac I so quickly fell in love with.
Azores ... living right on the water and walking around the corner for dinner or a snack.
Spring Hill, TN ... and a house and neighborhood that fit me so well.
I'm in my six month time of grieving. It'll pass.
It always does.