One of the biggest reasons we moved to Tiny Town, USA, probably THE biggest, is that this is where the Husby is from. He grew up just about a mile south of where we are living. Throughout the valley, everyone knows our last name because our family has been here for generations now.
Grandpa (the Husby’s grandfather on his dad’s side) was born here in Tiny Town a little over 80 years ago and when he was a young teen, he met a beautiful girl. When he was 18 and she was 16, they married and immediately started having children. From this union came four boys, all before Grandma was 20. Grandpa worked for the mill here in the valley- always a hard worker, always a laborer of some kind, and always teaching his sons to work hard and that family was the most important thing, after God, in the world.
The boys grew and three of the four moved away to start new lives elsewhere. Only one has remained in the valley… the Husby’s Dad. Dad married Mom and had four children of their own before they bought Dad’s old Elementary school and turned the school into their home. After buying the school, they proceeded to have seven more children. My Husby was number three in that 11.
My brothers and sisters in law have all scattered as well, most ending up within our home state somewhere, but we do have one lone ranger clear across the country, living on the coast like he’s cool… or something. 🙂
What I have noticed about my Husby’s family, however, is one main theme-even though one might leave for awhile, somehow they never get far or never STAY far away. Even the cool one, he’ll be back some day. That’s what happened to my Husby, me and the Bird. He moved to the other side of the state for school, met me, we decided to make our home in my hometown and then fate intervened.
We are so happy to be here. It’s such a blessing. I had to drive over the hill and into the capital yesterday and I’ll tell you what… it hasn’t taken long for me to acclimate to the slower pace of life! People were scurrying this way and that, some dressed to the nines just to go into Costco, and most glued to their cell phones instead of looking around. It was like watching real life from outside of it. That’s the only descriptor I can think of. Kind of a weird feeling though, wow!
Anyway, moral of the story is that sometimes we look outside ourselves and our origins to find what the meaning of our lives are. However, no matter where you look, where you venture to, where life takes you, you should always be able to come home again. You should always be able to rely on your family (or your Husby’s family) to envelop you when you are home. If you don’t have that, I hope you’re able to find it.
I have a quote in vinyl on a tile I keep as decoration in my home at all times. It reads: “Home is not a Place, It’s a Feeling”. I believe that. Here is a photo of our little home:
Mermaid Out of Water 