I think that I'd find it, if only I'd leave, if only I'd pack my babies and my mister, and head to some place new.
I've read that people with names like mine feel torn between family and adventure. We are homebodies with gypsy hearts.
This new year has brought desire for newness, for change, and so I've spent hours in my head, not embracing what I have and where I am, but wanting to go.
And then I remind myself, that there is no community better than my dad and mom and sisters. And I remind myself that these bay shores are my home. This town might not have some of the things that I think I want--wine bars, coffee shops, farm to table restaurants-- but it has absolutely everything I need. It has space for my children to run just a little wild. It has brackish water. It has my childhood wrapped in it, as it wraps my children too.
I'm trying to refocus my day dreams, think not of leaving, but how to make this place more like the ones I imagine I want to be. Maybe I can be the change, or maybe my fancy will pass, as they usually do, and I'll take my kids back to the empty winter beach to look for drift wood and sharks teeth, and we'll come back with sand in our boots, and clean up for a dinner to be eaten with a gaggle of sisters.