Saturday, October 30, 2010


I knew something was missing, but could never quite place my finger on what it was. An uneasiness of some sort, always waiting for something.

The town was never home. We lived there, but when asked where I was from my childhood town passed my lips. We lived in the town for 8 years but had not grown roots. We tried. We joined groups, reached out to make friends, bought a house. But it all remained superficial. Something to do until...Until what, we didn't know.

I think choosing to live somewhere and ending up somewhere makes a big difference in how you view the town. Perhaps that's why it never felt like home. Why that uneasiness and sense of being in transition never left.

In the late fall of 2007 all the stars aligned and we were presented with an opportunity to move. So in February of 2008 we packed up, left the town and moved home. This little town, half the size of the one we left was immediately that.

Friends were made easily, we found a rhythm and the sense of uneasiness vanished. We unpacked. We stood still. And quickly our roots dug deep into the mud. I love our little town. The beauty of it never ceases to amaze me.

Now you can ask and I'll tell you, I'm from Windsor. I live in a little community outside town, where the population of horses exceeds that of people, called Greenhill. But we call it home.

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