I’d been in Florida for a year and a half. I hadn’t gone back, I thought I was well over Indiana…

And then it was time to go home. I had a break from school, and I wanted to see my parents because my dad was ill and had had some bad bouts in the hospital and I wanted to help out my mom with that a bit.

So Denver and I hopped in the car for the long 16 hour drive back to Indiana.

With every mile, my anxiety grew.

I didn’t want to go back. I didn’t ever intend to go back.

I hated Indiana.

But I was afraid I missed it, too. 

I was afraid I missed it a lot more than I was willing to admit.

I remembered the years pining for Buffalo, the home of my heart for years.

I’d raised my kids in Indiana and life in Florida hadn’t been easy, and we were lacking friends…but the circle closest to us in Indiana had been toxic.

Our home had been tiny, tiny, tiny…but our yard so lovely.

I was up and down, sick to my stomach with the anxiety.

I drove the familiar streets to my parents house, and the anxiety remained. I settled into a simple routine for our week, but my anxiety remained.

I bit the bullet and drove to my old neighborhood. Into the weird round-about-cul-de-sac road that had been my home for 17 years.

My old neighbors and friends were out chatting on the front porch.

With familiarity, I sat down with them and carried on conversation for several hours. I snuck over to my old house (now owned by our other neighbor as a rental) to steal some cuttings from my rose of Sharon. I laughed with my old friends. Swapped stories. Hugged.

And I let go.

While I sat there talking, I realized they didn’t have that hold on me any longer. With our lives no longer entwined, I enjoyed their company, but I wasn’t bound by it.

I realized that though our little Hickville had been all we’d known, our little world for so long, it was no longer home.

I was free. I enjoyed my time in Indiana…but I no longer miss it.

(Except for that yard. Man, I miss that gorgeous, green, lush lawn!!!)

It’s a nice place to visit.

I let go.

Of the ties to all but my parents.

Of the looking back and wondering if we’d made a mistake.

Of Indiana.

Of that comfort zone.

It’s not easy. 

I’m home…but I’m not in my comfort zone yet.

I’m in the right state, but not the right location.

I was in the right field, but not with the right company.

We still are lacking friends (see right state, not right location).

But that weird, pining longing for a state I’d never felt at home at is gone.

It’s a new sense of peace.

I like it.

 

But damn, I still miss that lawn. ~sigh~