It's winter, like the official winter where you can't go outside because in 5 minutes you can get windburn/frostbite and that sucks. All the while I'm looking at Instagrams of my friends in the west. Ocean, trees and mountains and all I feel is homesick. My heart hurts and I miss the smell of the rain mixed with the salt air, the smell of trees in the desert and how wonderful the sun looks breeching over a mountain scene.
I love my life and my job here, I have found in North Dakota the home I'd been searching for since I became an adult.. but that doesn't stop me from missing the places I knew. It makes me crave a change and look at unemployment rates in other states, to look at Eric and suggest we move. But then we talk and it's clear we want our own land, our own piece of heaven and to create a life here. Maybe not Grand Forks, but in North Dakota, and a home filled with the pitter patter of feet, either dogs or children. I'd like to approach the subject of chickens and rabbits someday.
That's why wanderlust is a tricky siren...
She calls to me, saying to come back and live in the wonderful northwest again.. she calls me to her rocks, where I will surely be broken. The west, while wonderful, holds some of the worst memories of my life. I spent a good amount of my time there trying to mend my brokenness with alcohol, dancing and late night trips to Taco Bell with friends saying "I'll never do that again" till I did the next week.
My sin was big there, overwhelming. There was many a Sunday you could see the night before in my eyes and that I broke down crying because I desperately needed Jesus, but clung to the world. I miss the memories and the wilderness, the only church I ever called home and a few select humans that made my life better. So while I still miss my northwest home, I will cling to the promises of a better day, just around the bend and suffer through my wanderlust longings for another winter.. until spring comes and I can see the vast prairie come back to life.
