It's been 2 years now and soon to be my 3rd summer since we moved here to middle Tennessee from the Pacific Northwest. We were looking to downsize, have property, a place I could keep my 2 horses at home and not board them out, have my own barn, live a quieter, more serene life, away from traffic and congestion. So we sold our beautiful home, quit our jobs, left friends, left the comfortable life we knew, uprooted the life we had for 18 years and traveled 2500 miles across country to somewhere completely foreign and unfamiliar, moving to a rural, country town where we knew no one and had no roots.
We moved into a small home I had found from a previous trip here; 1200 sf. compared to our 2200 sf. home back in the NW. Because of its size, none of our furniture really worked. Downsizing that much was quite an adjustment. So was the weather. That first spring there were so many thunderstorms, tornado watches and warnings, and me not being used to that, was scared to death! Nothing ever came of the storms, thankfully, but having the weather radio alarms go off with messages of possible doom was pretty darn scary!
Over the next year or so, I did lots of home improvement projects to try and make this little house my home. Paint, flooring, new appliances, lighting, you name it, I got it. But it wasn't easy and it didn't take away the loneliness of not having friends or family here. To keep busy, I immersed myself in my little house and in my art, anything and everything to keep going and get involved in life here in my new state. I worked hard at it. And I cried a lot. I mean a lot. Everyday pretty much for the first year and then some. I missed my old house, my old life. Then I lost my 2 best dogs. I blamed Tennessee for taking them away. I blamed myself too for moving here. I thought if I hadn't have moved here and uprooted them, they'd still be alive and well. I really hated my life here.
There's so much open land with rolling pastures and history in the old dilapidated barns that remain for generations with family cemetaries where those same generations are laid to rest with family nearby.
There's peace down long unpaved country roads. Charm in the small towns with country diners. No big name restaurants around here. Hearty homemade food; biscuits and grits and country ham. There's true country music and true southern gospel music. I've got Joey and Rory who live just a few miles up the road, along with Marcy Jo's Mealhouse for breakfast and their famous stuffed french toast. Yum!
There's the Duck River for kayaking on a Saturday morning. Mildred's restaurant for the best fried catfish you'll ever eat. Family dinners on Sunday after church. Traditions that are lost in other parts of the country. It's close and personal here, and so so charming. I guess I'm home.