Home

"Once you pull up your first roots, it's never as hard to leave," my friend, Amy, said to me as we talked about our West Coast move last February. And she was right.

A lady at the Theatre asked Maddie where we were from and she answered West Virginia. Usually, when people ask me - and I get asked quite frequently out here, something about an accent - I say that I am from South Carolina, but we had lived in West Virginia for the past 2 years. It seems like the 2 years out of 28 should be explained for some reason. Today, it occurred to me, after quizzing the kids about it, that they have very few memories of actually living - not visiting- in South Carolina. Maddie had just turned 3 and Steitler was almost 2 when we moved to West Virginia. They remember snippets about our little white house, our yard with the fire ants, and our neighbors. All of their memories are clouded by a time line they cannot fully grasp. Yet, they tuck away so many memories in their brains. Memories of family, and friends, South Carolina, New York, West Virginia, Florida, Pennsylvania, our church, the beach, the mountains, the lake, the park, the cottage, the playground, the traditions, the love. If we live here in Washington for 5 years, will they be from Washington because the majority of their life will have been spent here in Sequim? Maybe where we are from is not a state after all. Where we are from is a composite of all the things we experience with the people we love. Based on time lived as a resident, South Carolina is my home state - where I am from -but it is not Ben's or my children's home state and that seems strange since they are my home.