I feel like I have some explaining to do. We can all agree that the definition of home changes over time. When I was little, home was cuddling my Bobby (not a boy... but a blanket).
A year ago, if someone had told me that I would be moving away from my home of 25 years to South Carolina, I probably would have laughed in their face and chugged a glass of wine. I was so engulfed in my work, I had just bought my first home and I finally accepted that love was not a search, but a journey in which God would place that perfect person in my path at the exact moment I was ready for it. Well, I wasn't ready for it.
I first met him in the summer of 2014 for a brief happy hour with my cousin and her then fiancee. He was not only a Southern Gent, but probably the most handsome man I've ever laid my eyes on. I brushed that encounter off knowing that we'd most likely never see each other again since he lived in South Carolina.
Well, low and behold, one year later, I'm a bridesmaid and he's the best man for my cousin's wedding. Now normally, if there's an attractive guy with an equally attractive personality, the little girl in me runs in the opposite direction, especially when I'm exhausted after a full day of last minute wedding errands, have no makeup on, haven't eaten, and would rather be in bed with Chipotle than hanging out with a big group of people. But when he walked in, all bets were off. I was drawn to him like a moth to the light. Ever since that day, my heart was his.
When I met him, home changed for me. Home was wherever he was... Wherever we were, together. Of course, our "together" was every few weeks and only for a few days. But that didn't matter because It was him and I and it was our story.
This past July I moved to Greenville, South Carolina, where I have an advertising job that I love and the opportunity to become a Barre3 instructor, an apartment that sort of feels like home, and mixed emotions about this business that was once my passion and happy place while in Arizona.
If I'm being honest, I've been attempting to write this post since August... I packed up my Feels Like Om stuff, and five months later, have yet to unpack it. In those boxes of apparel and home goods are memories from all of the amazing people I have met along the way... People that I fear I may never be able to find in Greenville. But as I get more and more settled in my new home, I'm realizing something that I should have figured out a long time ago; cOMmunity knows no state lines. There is always room to give back. There are great people in every city. And that I have worked too hard to give up on something just because I'm scared of failure.
OM'ie, you may not have even realized I was gone, may not read this, and may not care... But for those of you who made it to the end, you're the reason I'm writing this. I hope that you can accept my apology and welcome me back in. I sincerely miss my Arizona OM'ies, but am so excited to get to know the great people from Greenville.