Growing Up and Going Home


It’s officially been a week in our new home, and I could not be happier.

Moving to St. Louis has been a dream–my dream, one that Ben has amazingly, wonderfully, unselfishly adopted as his own. It’s been the type of dream we whispered about at night, under the cover of darkness, because if we said it too loud, too publicly, it may have slipped away. We dreamed and schemed, planned and saved and worked so hard to make this happen. It’s all I’ve wanted for years, but now we’re here.

I always knew I wanted to be here, with my family and in this city that seems so magical to me, but I never imagined it would be like this.

We found the most perfect little townhouse in the most charming neighborhood. Every building on every block is built of old, red brick. Most of the neighborhood churches are more than 160 years old. Tall, leafy trees line the wide streets and the city noises fade away. Bars and shops and restaurants are tucked into corners of old converted row houses, giving everything the same look and feel it had a hundred years ago. It’s minutes from everything, like most neighborhoods in St. Louis, but it feels so perfectly isolated from the hustle of the city.

This move should have been a thousand times more stressful than the last. Instead of having weeks to move across town, we had to load up, move almost 300 miles, and unpack all in less than 24 hours–but somehow I’ve been so relaxed. There’s something so reassuring about coming here that makes everything else seem unimportant.

Now we’re celebrating all those firsts that come with a new home. The very first night and that glorious first sunrise through new windows. The first evening stroll discovering what’s hidden down every new street. The first time sitting on our new balcony, drink in hand, soaking in the sounds of our new life.

I’m sitting on that balcony now, as the cicadas sing in the trees and the muggy St. Louis morning presses close. The sun filters through the leaves to fall on the exposed brick walls, and I feel like anything is possible, the same way I’ve felt for the last seven mornings. I hope I feel this way forever.

It all sounds so dramatic and romanticized, but that’s how it really seems. I know in a week or a month or a year it will all feel old and familiar and boring, but right now it’s perfect.

My parents had a party last night for a few relatives who aren’t usually in town. Before, those types of things always hit me hard. I knew that’s what I lost out on, living in Indiana. I never missed a Christmas or Thanksgiving. Major holidays and birthdays were usually spent together. But it’s the little things. The nights of “hey, we’re grilling out tonight, why don’t you come over?” and the small moments in between that mean everything to me. Now we don’t have to miss out again, because we’re finally here.

Most people grow up and go out into the world to find their own place. They want to make a name for themselves or just carve out a niche where they can discover themselves without the pressures of home. I had a small taste of that in Indiana, but it was never what I longed for. Now I’m grateful for this chance to share the city I love with the one I love, and find our own place in the world so close to home.

Tagged , ,

2 thoughts on “Growing Up and Going Home

  1. Heather says:

    It sounds beautiful! Congrats!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: