Moving Away From Home, Again (But, this time it’s for good.)

Everyone, at one point in their life, says the familiar phrase: “Ugh, I can’t wait to move out.” Little did I know once the time came, I would no longer be yearning to leave, but almost dreading it.

The first time I moved away from home was when I went to college. Granted, I only attended college a little under an hour away, so I technically could have commuted, but I wanted the whole “college experience.” As the days wound down to move in day, I was excited. Actually, I was thrilled. I was ready to take on this new experience and adventure. Yes, I was leaving home and everything I knew, but I was ready to try something new. Besides, I would come home eventually, right?

During my undergrad, I would come home during random weekends during the semesters and breaks between. In a way, I “moved home” and “moved away” multiple times in four years. The day following my college graduation, I packed up my apartment above the pizza shop, took one last drive through campus, and said goodbye to my college town. It was a bittersweet feeling. I learned so much about myself in that town, and there was a small part of me that didn’t want to leave.

Following that final move home, I began applying to every teaching job within an hour radius of my hometown, thinking that was where my “home” would forever be. That’s what most new grads do, right? Spoiler alert, I ended up not securing a job in my hometown. I was actually rejected by my home district (talk about a burn). Instead, I had a string of interviews with a very well-known, highly ranked district. Ready for the kicker? It was in my college town. Talk about a funny twist of fate.

In the end, I accepted the position in my college town (yay!), and then I was faced with the reality of the decision I just made. I had to move. Back to my college town. Permanently. Gulp. It never crossed my mind that I would be moving back to that little town that was such an influence on me for four years. Now that I was presented with the opportunity, I was scared. I was scared of a place that I loved so dearly. I was scared of a place that played such a crucial role in the development of Miss B. But, why was I scared? I couldn’t understand why I had these feelings. And then it hit me. In order to start my new life in my new career, I would have to leave behind almost everyone and everything that had an impact on me growing up. In order to do what is best for me, I had to make this step.

Making that step was hard. It was so incredibly hard. There were countless nights after my move that I sat and cried, questioning my decision. There were times I was so painfully homesick for my mother and sister (don’t even get me started on the dogs I left behind) that nothing would curb it. However, for every heartbreaking moment, I had new moments that reminded me I am in the right place. I am slowly approaching my year anniversary of being away from home (for good), and I am thriving. Yes, I have my days where there is nothing I want more than to sit on the porch and talk to my mom for hours, but that’s what makes the visits home the most special to me.

My college town may be my new “home,” but my hometown will always be home in my heart.

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