I Am Home

Contentment.

  You know, I always thought I had a good handle on that word, that character trait. Turns out that I thought I did, only because I hadn't been tested on it yet. When the rubber meets the road, and your life isn't what you wanted/imagined, then you learn just how strong of a characteristic contentment is in your life.

  And in my life? Well, if I were in high school, being tested on it, I'd be lucky to find a grade 'B' written in red ink on my score sheet.  A score of 'B' isn't so bad though... Considering the fact that I've worked my way up from at least a 'D-' in the past few months.

   Yes I will admit it. I've really been struggling to be content in the last few months. Caught up in a selfish, ungrateful attitude, I couldn't see the blessings right in front of me even when they hit me in the head (quite literally sometimes; I tend to bump into walls). Transitioning to living in an apartment, in town, has been a shock to the system, and one that I have not gracefully adapted to. All I could see were the noisy neighbors downstairs, the lack of countryside, the rather annoying landlord... When what I should have been in awe of was the fact that we found a FABULOUS, affordable house to live in (clean, well taken care of, no leaky pipes or heating problems), we live ONE BLOCK away from the city pool, behind our house is a small fishing lake with walking paths and lots of wildlife, and we're five minutes away from historical, downtown; which has a plethora of awesome stores, the local farmer's market, library, and is also the happening ground for my yoga classes.

  But adaptation happens to all of us. An inner evolution of the heart. And this funny little house is growing on me. Sure, there may be a stark lack of counter space in the kitchen, but the 1930's vintage flavor of the whole room really does make up for it. And heck, cleaning is a cinch here.

  I'm sure this revolution should have come to me sooner, but being the mere mortal that I am, and not a perfect one at that, it didn't. But it hit me last week as I finished cleaning the whole place from top to bottom and surveyed the square footage before me, I realized... That I was quite content with this little place. A smile of satisfaction slid across my face. I was home. You don't have to live in the country to be a country girl (or guy). By golly, I could still have a booth in the farmer's market, make hog's-head cheese, and wear my cowgirl boots while living smack dab in the heart of downtown. As a matter of fact, it's a very fun challenge to merge and intertwine the two lifestyles. Country at heart, city at home.

  Kale yeah.

   ^The new, hip, way of making a point without quite swearing. I'm rather smitten with it.