Thinking a lot....dreaming a little

As I left Knoxville this past weekend, I was driving down the interstate, doing a lot of thinking. As usual. Some say I think too much. Or over think things. I agree. But I don’t know how not to. I passed one of the exits that I hear about often but have only been on once. When I read the sign, I felt this feeling of familiarity. And somehow, that’s what started my thinking. Three and a half years ago, I was someone who was unwilling to drive on the interstate but more than willing to hop on a plane for the first time ever, fly to a third-world country in South America and live with a family I’d never met. Why? Not only is the interstate a scary place, it’s normal (for normal people)….it’s part of everyday life. It’s routine. It’s the daily work commute. It’s the weekly shopping trip. It’s the monthly business trip. It becomes mundane. What scared me more….the traffic or the idea of getting up everyday and doing the same thing? When I moved here in November, it was my 10th move in 9 years. The longest I’ve been in one place at one time, since I was 21, was the 2 years I lived in Lewisburg. Why was I there so long? I had dreams….dreams of being settled down….living in a little house with flowers in the yard, walking the kids to the school directly across the street, planting a garden….living with the awareness that every 30 minutes the train would go by. Talk about routine. That’s what I wanted….to wear my favorite apron and make homemade biscuits, pick berries and make homemade jam, to hang the laundry outside to dry on warm days. I loved waking up everyday, going to the same job, seeing the same people….dreaming the same dreams. And then….I woke up. After that, in every place I lived, as soon as the last box was empty, the last picture hung, I started getting antsy. I thought it was an adventurous spirit….I didn’t realize it was a broken spirit. When the routine gets set and the days run together, I feel that uncomfortable feeling….I don’t know if I can put words to it….it makes me want to dream. It makes me want to hope. But is it safe to dream? Is it safe to hope? It sure is easier to pack up and move on. It’s easier to push your dreams aside and become someone new. Is my heart dreaming today? Maybe. I want to buy a sewing machine. I want to finish sewing the aprons I’ve started. I want to learn to make tiny dresses for little princesses. I want to make those homemade biscuits I dreamed of and pick the berries for the jam. I want to finally plant the herbs that I bought seeds for months ago. I want to do all the things that bring me joy. I don’t want to pack up, move on, or be someone new. I want to get back to me and back to my dreams….even if that means being uncomfortable for a little while.