You could let me out now. This is my church, and I can always find my way home from here. -Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies
I often envy many of my friends here in the south, who chose to go to college close to home, and have since settled and are raising their children within mere miles of family and life-long friends. Though John and I are both somewhat adventurous by nature, and moving far from home has not been difficult for us (socially or otherwise), there are times when it is easy to throw myself miniature pity-parties in the name of access to free family babysitting, holiday visitations that require getting together for a big meal then promptly returning to our very own beds the same night, or simply the ease of conversation that comes in the presence of someone who knew me before I was Mrs. John Wait, or Eliott’s mom.
This is why, it does not cease to amaze me, that in the seven years we have been married, and in the three different cities we have lived, somehow John and I have managed to find ourselves among people who embrace us like they do their own family.
The UnderToad 