does it matter where we live?

After spending a year in rural Maryland and enduring enough stress to last a lifetime or two, I find myself contemplating the question about the importance of where we live quite often.  Would I have handled things more gracefully if we were in a space of familiarity?  Or did I simply fall short in my ability to handle the monumental bumps that presented themselves to us? Do we need to love our homes, our cities and towns, our states, our neighbors in order to love our lives?  Or are we called to overcome and conquer the uncomfortable and be more mobile?

I don't know.  I truly don't.  I do know that we placed ourselves on a freight train headed for disaster by moving to a place with no family, very few friends, during a third pregnancy, and then endured marital distress in the midst of all of it.  Because Maryland quite literally did not agree with me constitutionally, I think I blame Maryland.  

So... we are moving back to Colorado.  

We are moving back to our home and our neighborhood.  My daughter will go to her old school.  We'll once again patronize the shops and restaurants near our home.  We will plan ski trips and our attendance at beer festivals.  And we'll do so with a fresh perspective on what we took for granted previously.  We'll remember to look west at the fourteener in our backyard.  We'll plan Sunday dinners with the grandparents and line up more date nights.  Because we have free babysitting again.  We'll remember the bonding that brought us closer in Maryland and be grateful for it, but also know that we never. want. to. test. that. bond. again.

Some questions can't be answered universally.  The answer then truly becomes subjective.  What works for your life might not work for mine, and vice versa.  I can't even say that this was a mistake for us.  We gained even while feeling lost.  And now we return to a place that we do love, near people we love.  I just hope that I remember to be grateful.  

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