Slow Walks in Fair Lands
The air and water taste almost sweet. At an elevation surpassing 6000 feet the white wispy clouds feel so close that you could lasso one and draw it close for further inspection. Zero humidity and the climate so temperate the older homes, like ours, don’t have air conditioning. Four parks, a coffee shop, an Italian restaurant and gelateria are blocks from our front door. A 15 minute drive to the splendid red rocks that line the base of the Eastern entrance to the Colorado Rockies.
Yet, it’s not enough. It does not feel like home. It feels temporary.
I’ve never recovered from our first day in this city. If I had offered to turn the Uhaul around and return to Arizona, my wife and eldest daughter might have exhaled in relief. But we stayed.
We made a noble effort to succeed here. We immersed ourselves in a small church we ride our non-electric scooters to each Sunday morning. The Weaver Scooter Gang. Brie is thriving at her job. And I am building community for all of us, operating a good home and helping raise kind and healthy children. I am thinking and writing more clearly and well.
Yet, I do not feel this is home. And soon - 3-6 months soon - I want to relocate. To a place that is home.
When these feelings first surfaced, some left me inclined to feel I had failed. I chose poorly. Did not invest enough time or energy or make a concerted effort to build a life here. Through counseling sessions, conversations with Brie and good friends, and writing, oh the writing, I no longer feel this is a failure. It is a season. An opportunity to try a place we were curious about.
And through this experience, we have a better understanding of what is important in our next home.
Though that too may not be forever.
Smaller town. Slower. Quieter. Easier to know and be known. The neighbor that mows your lawn as they mow theirs. The bag of oranges left on your wrap-around front porch from a friend’s backyard tree. More roundabouts and fewer eight lane city streets. The diner where the waitress always calls you honey, even though she knows your name.
At the end of J.R.R. Tolkien’s Return of the King, Legolas, the elf, chooses to stay in Ithilien to restore the war-torn woodlands. “Stay for a day, a week or a hundred years. Walk in the woods of this fair land. And that is rest enough. And it shall be blessed.”
My home is unclear. I know it is not in Colorado. Regardless of where, I can be a source of encouragement and laughter for others. I will take slow walks in the fair lands. Be at rest. Cherish the mundane moments. And know that my presence will leave those I encounter blessed.
