learning to stay

We've moved to a different state every year since 2011. Although the initial uncertainty of moving was unnerving, I always eventually found comfort in moving. I knew that if I didn't make friends in one area, I could try again the next year. I knew that if I hated my housing situation, I could find a more suitable home the next year. And I knew that if I didn't love the place, I would soon be discovering different nooks and crannies of a new state.

Not this year. We are not moving this year. 

And although this should bring me so much more comfort because I don't have to rush to find preschools for Genevieve or sign Mya up for a new school or find soccer leagues and gymnastics facilities or feel that terribly awkward feeling that inevitably accompanies me on my first day at church or cry at night for at least two months because I miss so-and-so or such-and-such place, I don't feel comforted. In fact, I feel the opposite. Sheer terror has been slowly creeping into my thoughts over the past few days as the realization of staying sinks in and reminds me it's about time I start carving out my place in Texas.

It's been nearly nine months, and Texas still has not grown on me. Don't get me wrong...I love my neighborhood and my neighbors, but I still feel foreign here. I don't have a favorite doughnut shop. I don't have a go-to running route. I still haven't found a favorite restaurant. (If you ask people about their favorite restaurant, they almost always say Texas Roadhouse. And every time they say it, I cringe inside because although Texas Roadhouse has some of the best cinnamon butter around, there are so many better restaurants!) I still don't know where all the decent parks are located. And I haven't decided where my loyalty belongs when it comes to grocery shopping.

Oh and one more thing--I think a part of me will always loathe Texas because of the fire ants. The damn fire ants! We can't go to a single park without Genevieve walking around nervously, checking every dirt mound for ants. Just today, Genevieve asked me when we were going to move away from the mean ants, and I wished I had an actual date to give her.

This post was not meant to be a pity post. Believe me--I am very much aware that I'm whining.

So I guess 2015 is going to teach me the art of staying. I'm not sure how to stay. How do you tether a gypsy soul? This is the question I ask myself daily. I'll keep you posted. 

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