Home Sick

I grew up in Oklahoma City, went to college in Stillwater, Oklahoma, started my professional career in Tulsa, Oklahoma, and didn't move out of the state until I had been married for 4 years.  Many moons later, we're living back in red dirt country again.  So, it may be odd that I am home sick for some place(s) else.

If home is where the heart is, I apparently have many homes.  I made my first "grown up" friend in Houston.  You know the kind - the first person who you are friends with not because you go to the same school or work at the same place or are related to.  We chose to be friends.  We clicked thanks to a passion for kickboxing, but found out that was only the beginning.  It's still one of my most rewarding friendships.  I miss our gym dates, lunch dates, pool dates and couple dates.

Denver was idyllic.  With all of the fresh air, mountain bike trails, un-ending scenery, I mean, our master bedroom had a mountain view for crying out loud.  It was almost perfect.  The dang snow just got in the way.  But out of all the places that we've lived, this neighborhood was absolutely storybook delightful.  All young, fit couples, walking dogs, starting families, living "the life".  Our next-door neighbors were a once-in-a-lifetime find.  With short, picket fences between the houses, there was no one else I'd rather see when standing on the back porch in my pajamas.  Or shoveling the driveway.  Or sharing a fantastic home cooked meal.  Neighbors who became cherished friends.

And of all of the least likely places to make lasting bonds, there was Baku, Azerbaijan.  All of us English-speakers were clumped together simply because of a shared language, but once you started shifting through the "Westerners" there were some true gems.  Strangely, it was because the country was so difficult to live in, that we drew closer together.  There was something reassuring in knowing that other people were struggling too.  Misery loves company, so we took our pity party out for cocktails and then to Germany and Thailand.  Traveling and indulging with these friends created lasting memories and filled my photo albums.

Lesli and Brooke before the Kenny Chesney concert in Houston

On many nights, my dreams are filled with all of these friends and the experiences we shared.  I wake up sad for the past.  We can always be friends, but the circumstances will never quite be the same.  I knew I was extremely fortunate at the time to be making such good friends, but it's only in retrospect that it can wholly be appreciated.

Tulips bloomed in our Denver backyard just before we moved

Brooke and Adriana enjoying Thailand