I remember the days I used to wake up to a world transformed into a white soft fluffy wonder place. Snug in my bed I would glance over to my window to see everything transformed from a gray barren land to a new world of possibilities. I would turn on my radio in hopes that school would be canceled so I could go outside to play. Once they announced my school, I would race to finish breakfast and pack my winter clothes on and head outside.

The snow would be so perfectly serene, untouched by any life until I plunged my feet into the drifts and declare my territory. With each step my feet would become heavier until I gave in and plopped onto my back and looked up to the sky. With any luck snow would still be drifting from above. Many a times, even in my childhood, I would lay there and ponder life. I remember often thinking, that laying there with snow dancing around, that this was the way I would want to die. Slowly, calmly floating away to a better place. I guess I was somewhat of a morbid child, even then.

Typically I was not a very imaginative child, but for some reason a new snowfall always seemed to bring me a gift of creativity. Living in Florida now I miss those days mixed with seasons and childhood. I am sad my kids will not experience waking up to a school snow day and all the excitement that brings. Of course, I don’t miss the cold, shoveling, ice scrapping, and constant bundling. But it seems for a few days every year the entire area would come to a halt. Families would stay home together and play, life would become simpler and less hectic. Somehow, talking with my kids over a cup of hot chocolate on a 80 degree rainy day here just doesn’t seem to have the same coziness.

Originally posted on February 1, 2007

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When we first pulled up I could hardly believe my eyes. I wasn’t sure it was the long travel to get here or what, but I couldn’t believe it. “You are kidding, right? Here? I thought this was a city. Like Boston, not like an industrial park!” Maybe I should of checked the area out before I agreed to move here with my boyfriend.

As I looked around and surveyed my new zip code I noticed how everything looked so dirty. The sky scrapers were so few. And the roads. Everywhere, only to be matched with every square inch of land being adjacent to some half empty strip mall. And speaking of strip- those joints, flashing lights and suggestive sayings were only outnumbered by the cockroaches that lined the sidewalk at night. Home?

Eventually we moved off the small island where there seemed to be a few less roaches. Just a few. The happening hip artsy area we moved into grabbed my interest. Things would be ok. I acted the part, dropping cash in the overpriced stores, just to be seen and pretend that I was a part of it all. I grew attached and proud of where we lived and began to accept the new way of living-Florida style.

I still cried at Thanksgiving grieving for the leaves, the smell of the fireplace. I cried at Christmas missing the snow and family. I survived, I started my own roots.

Then abruptly it all ended. What I had known was thrown. My roots ripped up and I was left searching for where I belonged- here or there?

I teetered back in forth, but was determined to make my way. And I did. I stayed in my artsy area I loved so much and began my own life.

Then I met him. My now hubby, from the other side of town. It was an area that was reserved for families and chain stores. Not my style, by far, not young and hip like I wanted to be, but he stole my heart. I gave in and moved to the other side.

I hated it as much as I hated my view when I first stepped onto Florida ground. It was everything I thought I rallied against. He had a daughter, so this was where he belonged, but I fought against it being for me. I wanted the live music, art shows, and roller blading along the bay. I didn’t want suburbia.

It took me many years and a few kids later and I have learned to accept this as my home. It may not be all I ever dreamed of as far as the setting goes, but it is where my family is planted. I learned to stop hating, to stop thinking about the places I’d rather be and concentrate on the positives of where we are.

I still have dreams of moving to the mountains someday to an small town. It may happen, or not. Either way…

I am thankful for…

Having a safe place to live with my family. We have a fairly nice house in a nice neighborhood with lots of stores very close. It may not be my dream actualized, but it could be SO much worse…

*Sublime- Has some harsh language click with caution, but song was stuck in my head while typing this post

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