I find myself waking early before the golden light shines through my bathroom windows and into my bedroom. My brain shifts into gear and soon I'm lying in bed, detailing my plans for the day. Update my book on Amazon, write a tweet that will drive traffic to the book, watch a few videos on YouTube about portrait photography, make a cleaning schedule and plan what's for dinner.
Then I roll over. Shut my eyes. Wonder where my life is going.
I had hoped to be living in Pennsylvania by now--working on our home, planting a raised garden, photographing the hills and rivers, looking out my front windows from the desk I purchased four years ago and has since been buried beneath boxes of all my household goods.
Instead, I'm here. In Florida. Carving a life in a town where I am uniquely familiar with every CVS, WalMart and Publix. And I can't forget Panera where once a month I meet my writer friend for lunch.
But my brain and heart keep pulling me north to the place where so much sweat and love went into. I roll over on my back, stare at the fan blades revolving over my head. I'm blessed. I'm healthy. I am luckier than many people. I go through my list of why I should not have one complaint in the world. I tell myself others would kill to be living six miles from the beach, in a community of nice people, with the ability to stay home and work.
I know I'm blessed. I thank God every day. So why does my heart keep plunging me into thoughts of my other home? Why can't I anchor it here? Obviously, this town is where God wants me to be so why can't I get my heart on board with that plan? What am I doing wrong?
Finally I shift my blankets off me and touch my toes to the floor, grounding myself to today's plan. Thankful. Happy. Trusting. Shutting the blinds to my northern home for another day.
