If you know me (present day), you know I’m happiest in either the mountains or the country. This is ironic given that I fought long and hard to escape my upbringing in a very rural, small town in western Pennsylvania. Growing up, I couldn’t wait to escape the country. My dream was to live in New York City, due in part to the influence of the classic Doris Day, Rock Hudson movies Lover Come Back and Pillow Talk, both of which take place in NYC. As a young girl, I fantasized of living and working in a big city, like Doris Day’s character, Jan, did.
As I’ve grown up and older, however, I’ve grown to appreciate a slower paced, quieter lifestyle–especially parenting a young child again. There’s much to be said about the peace and solitude that’s part and parcel of immersing yourself in the expanse of nature. At one time I found a modicum of this peace and solitude on the beach and in the ocean. That no longer appeals to me, however. In fact, I now find the changing tides and raging waves deeply unsettling for reasons I can’t fully explain. Perhaps this is due, at least in part, to who I was when I sought to live near the ocean. I was a very unsettled person, seeking and searching to find meaning in life, when I migrated southward fifteen years ago. Now that I’ve discovered who I am to some degree, the inherent by-product is peace and tranquility–both of which I experience in a pastoral setting.
For the next two weeks I will be in my happy place, in the Rocky Mountains. Thanks to Airbnb, I scored a cute little home nestled at the foothills of the Flatirons. This morning while munchkin is yet sleeping, I’m sipping coffee on the deck while my man is swinging in a hammock, and I can honestly say I’ve never been happier or more at peace. Oh, and the temperature is a lovely 64 degrees. The mountains were calling, and I answered.