This last September my husband and I had to move our family from our home in southern Idaho to Montana. My husband was offered a great job in the economy that demands that you don't turn down jobs so we packed up our two little ones and our belongings and moved 10 hours by car from everyone that we loved and who loved us back. I would love to say that I am fearless and able to take all the change in stride, but I am not. Nearly six months after the move I am still heart broken.
The package looks great, we are renting a beautiful home in a beautiful neighborhood. And things have gotten easier along the way, I have made some amazing friends, and am waiting patiently for spring(ok not really patiently, I may beat up the next snow flake that I see) but no matter how bright my outlook I still cannot shake the desire to pack us up and move back home. No spring plan will ever be better than having my sisters over for dinner and watching them love my kids or heading over for the day to my grandparents house, or cleaning like mad while I wait for my parents to visit for the weekend.
I am not a person that can sit in uncertainty. I always have a plan, a list and a million things to do. There has never been a situation that when taken into my own hands that I couldn't fix. So right now while we try to decided how much homesickness is too much, and weigh the options (or lack thereof) I find myself in uncharted territory. I wish that there was a bandaid that I could apply to ease the ache, but am afraid that this wound runs too deep for such an easy fix. Home may be the only remedy that will suffice.