I’m a hybrid.

I love feeling the water glide over my shins as I stand barefoot in a river, rocks occasionally saying hello. I love feeling the breeze on my face as I stand in the silence atop a rolling hill, watching the gracefulness of a bird softly soaring above the valley. I love feeling dirt on my hands as I replant a flower. I love watching the hummingbird’s wings find stillness while sitting on my feeder. I love the beauty of the painted sky as the sun begins to rest. I love the extreme stillness.

But I also love the palpable energy of a city that never sleeps. I love hearing multiple voices and conversations as I stand on a street corner. I love the beautiful art, the intricate art, the weird art. I love the boundaries that are pushed and the questions that are asked. I love how lives seamlessly intertwine in the busyness of it all. I love the extreme creativity. I love the vast expansiveness.

My heart simultaneously holds these two loves. It always has.

My husband and I recently moved back to West Virginia after living in NYC for many years. (I was there for seven years; he was there for two.) The decision to move was a bittersweet one, but we knew it was right. We adored life in NYC, but we excitedly looked to what we have planned for our future.

When we returned to Almost Heaven, we were warmly greeted. We were welcomed with many smiles and homecooked meals, many sunsets on the deck and gooey s’mores made over bonfires with friends. In the weeks following the move, we naturally had multiple conversations about returning to our home state. And when asked if we were excited to be back, we’d of course say: Yes! Because we are. And sometimes, but not every time, we’d allow ourselves to be fully honest: But it’s sad, too. Because it is.

You see, Thomas and I are so very excited to be home. We truly are. But what there is to understand is that we also left our home – our home in New York. We had built such rich and fulfilling lives in that bustling maze of a city. I became an adult there. I lived out my childhood dreams there. We began our marriage there. We built friendships and careers and traditions there. A lot of life happened there. Thus, it had also become our home. And, as you know, home can be hard to leave. And starting again somewhere new is a process.

Not everyone liked to hear this piece of the story – the piece that shares the move was hard. Some wanted us to only feel happiness – to only be glad about what we were gaining. If we shared that there was some sadness alongside that happiness – or that we missed some of the things we left – they’d be disappointed. They thought that meant we regretted our decision to move.

No. We do not regret our decision at all. We know we made the best decision for this time in our lives. But there is not a switch one flips to transition from one place to the other. One does not simply shift the intricacies of their lifestyle overnight.

It takes time. It takes patience. It takes understanding. 

Our day-to-day lives have drastically shifted. We drive cars to the grocery store instead of walking there with a cart. We use the washer/dryer in our basement instead of going to the laundry mat on Saturday mornings. We mow the lawn on Wednesday evenings instead of seeing a Broadway show. The sparkle of the skyline has been replaced by the twinkle of the stars. 

But both shine so magically, don’t they?

My intention is not to compare one place to the other. That would not be fair and would not make sense. Both places – obviously – hold great significance to my life. Both have unique beauty and unique challenges. That’s true of anywhere.

What I wish to convey is that there is no denying life was sweet in New York – and there is no denying life is sweet now in West Virginia. The lives are just different. And that takes some getting used to. With moves like this, there are bumps and turns, changes and questions, sadness and happiness and everything in between. There’s laughter deep from the belly during a Sunday lunch, and tears while sitting in the quiet on a Tuesday evening. And that is ok. Because we’re learning to fully invest in life while we find our “new normal.”

Allowing time to find a “new normal” is… normal. Because it means we spent time in our lives exploring – and that we’re continuing to do so. I believe we can only be bettered by stepping out, by pushing beyond, by trying, by seeing things differently. Wherever we go, we take little pieces of each place – and the people met along the way – with us. And the love for them remains steady, though the time between seeing them may be long.

Some might say the downside to this is that you’re always missing something or someone; your heart is always longing. But the way I see it, well – my heart is always able to find genuine happiness, no matter where I go. It opens so very wide to accept more and to give more – regardless of where it roams.

Yes, I am a hybrid, deeply loving two places that may seem like complete opposites. I know I need a delicate balance of these two worlds.

And right now, I’m simply calibrating.