Home is a Feeling

“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” The Adventures of Winnie-the-Pooh, A.A. Milne

Dorothy was onto something with those red sparkly heels; there really is no place like home.  

Arizona feels like home to me.  After recently spending 10 days in the Grand Canyon State, I feel like myself again: spunky, confident, and optimistic.  Technically, it was only supposed to be a week, but then #Snowmaggedon hit Asheville.  I was happy to be “stuck” in the desert for a few extra days.  Everyone keeps asking me, “how was your trip to Arizona?” My knee-jerk response? “It was amazing – Arizona feels like home.”

Home.  I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what home actually means.  With my 30th birthday on the horizon in a couple weeks, a little introspection is expected, right?  Is home limited to the geographic radius where you happened to be born? Is home where your parents live?  Is home a static place, or does the meaning of home change as we get older?  Is home the place where you can be completely vulnerable and authentic?     

Yes, Asheville is where I hang my hat, but is it home?

Almost five years ago, I was working in Washington, DC and feeling completely burnt out.  Through a twist of fate, I had a phone conversation with a US House candidate running for office in Arizona’s 7th Congressional district, during which time he offered me the position of his finance director.  One week later, I had my old Xterra packed to the brim, and I was driving across the country by myself to Phoenix, AZ.  I had been to the Grand Canyon as a kid, but never stepped foot anywhere else in the state.  I was only supposed to be out there for 5 months – just through the primary.  After the election in November, I would head back east.  Only 5 months, no big deal.  Best laid plans.

“Just five months” turned into three amazing years in the desert.  I like to refer to my time spent in AZ as my formative years – mid twenties.  Interpret that as you wish.  

As many of you know, my transition to Asheville was not initially the fairytale I envisioned, especially compared to the Phoenix move.  Don’t get me wrong, I have grown to really love Asheville; she is special and beautiful.  But still, what made these two cross country moves such vastly different experiences?  I think I figured it out.

I was completely unencumbered when I moved to Phoenix.  I had ended an almost four year relationship.  I was a free agent.  It was just me.  I was only going to be there 5 months, so I was not trying to forge life-long friendships and connections.  My attitude was very much “take me or leave me, this is who I am.”  

It’s sort of like when you’re traveling – complete strangers can sometimes see all of your good qualities.  Many of these complete strangers became some of my closest friends.  Y’all became, and always will be, my Phoenix family.  We recapture those little pieces of ourselves when we travel.  We can reinvent ourselves.  We can be authentic.  By happenstance, I was afforded this opportunity when I moved to Phoenix.  I was just being Shug.  

Easy.  That’s sort of been the theme of the Phoenix chapter of my life – everything was easy; mostly.  Don’t get me wrong, it was not entirely sunshine and rainbows.  I made some amazing friends, who constantly inspire me to be a better version of myself.  I started to travel at every given opportunity.  I hiked a lot.  I ran a lot.  I partied a lot.  I experienced heartbreak for the first time.  I spent a Thanksgiving alone.  And I found myself.  I had many ups and downs.  But once you look back through the lens of time and experience, you’re able to see things differently.  As it turns out, it was an incredibly special chapter.  I would not change a thing.  I moved across the country completely by myself at 25.  I learned how to stand on my own two feet.

People often ask me, would you ever move back?  The answer:  I don’t know, but, probably not.  I left at just the right time – soon enough that I can look back with nostalgia.  My spirit was ready for the next adventure.  It’s hard to put into words, but I came across this Azar Nafisi quote several years ago, which captures the sentiment, “You get a strange feeling when you’re about to leave a place, like you’ll not only miss the people you love, but you’ll miss the person you are now, at this time and this place, because you’ll never be this way ever again.”  

Home is not a place; it’s a feeling.  I am pretty fortunate to have people in all corners of the country who feel like home.  Asheville might not be my forever place, but for the foreseeable future, the mountains keep calling.  

Isn’t is funny how day by day nothing changes, but when you look back years later, everything is different?

With love, from Asheville.

-Shug