For years the hubs had been telling me that my hometown—the place we lived for seven years together up until this past October—was growing on him.
“I love Lancaster,” he’d say. “If I could just pick it up and move it near the ocean and my family, Id never want to move.” (I’ve found that people who grow up near the water always have a special place for it in their souls).
Well, now two out of his three wishes have come true.We are living near the ocean and we are much, much closer to his family. Like, a mile away from his brother, and not too much farther from both of his parents.
Sadly, it means I’m away from my family, and also my hip hometown. Our new town—although charming and not lacking potential—is nothing like the thriving downtown we left behind. I miss Central Market, coffee shops, restaurants, and the constant buzz of local activity.
But I will say this: living by the water is pretty fantastic.
I always thought I’d like to live in the mountains. My two favorite places I’ve ever lived EVER were in Vermont and New Hampshire, surrounded by mountains and fresh water. I’ve always enjoyed hiking and much prefer lake and river swimming to the salty ocean water.
However, this morning—along with many mornings since we’ve moved to the Connecticut coast—I enjoyed an early walk along a nearby road overlooking the water. There’s something so energizing about waking up and starting your day outside, surrounded by natural beauty. I admit, the salty smell of the sea and the funkiness of low tide is starting to grow on me.
It may never smell like my first home. Amish country and cow manure is pretty stiff competition. And while Liam may still fake retch and dry heave once we venture back and cross into Lancaster County, the fresh smell of cow shit spread on a farmer’s field will always bring on a slow an easy smile for me. Aahhh, home.
Maybe one day we will move back to Lancaster. Or have a home near some mountains. For now, though, I’m feeling grateful for our chance to experience life along this salty coast.