places

It's true what they say, home is where your heart is. But what if your home is all over the place leaving your heart a bit panicky and fragile? What then?
Lately, I have been here...the place that will always be my home.

Tyboy has been here.

Which actually looks like...

The boys so lovingly call it the buttcrack of America. Charming, eh?
In two short months we are headed here:

And then after four months of that, who knows really. So our hearts are all over the place. You can see how this presents a small dilemma for a hometown type of girl. The more I think about all of our upcoming adventures, the more excited I become for all the places this life will take us. It worries me some that we don't have a home though. The one and only place we call our own. Where are our hearts, then?

Tyler has expressed this worry to me before being that he grew up in Utah, moved to Indiana, lived in Mexico for two years, then in Rexburg, meanwhile his family moved to Missouri...you see how things can get a little confusing? And then there's me--on the opposite end of the spectrum--who lived in the same quaint little neighborhood for 18 years of my life.

We hope to find a home someday--some place to truly call our own. But for now, I think we are content in knowing that we can make home wherever we happen to be. That whole "home is where the heart is" phrase has really struck a chord with me lately. There are two ways to interpret that, really. Of course, your heart is at home--in which case mine would be in little old Salmon, Idaho. The place where I can almost smell the tangy spices of salsa being concocted by my mother and placed oh-so-carefully into individual jars throughout the fall. The place where I have laughed, cried, and grown. Where I learned to work, and work hard. The place where my heart is cared about and dealt with tenderly, where my feelings and dreams are appreciated and understood. The place I know I can always go to and be and a little girl for a minute or two. My heart will always be there in some ways.

The other interpretation--and the one I am particularly fond of at the moment--is that you can make your home wherever your heart happens to be. Wherever your body takes that pounding muscle of yours...that can be home. It just takes a little effort to make it feel that way. So, for now, while Tyboy and I are 1,000 miles apart and oh-so-lonely at times, it's good to know we are both at home, in a way. He can find comfort in the tiny camp trailer he and my dad call home, while I keep myself busy in our third-floor one-bedroom apartment. Both of our hearts are where they need to be until we discover that place we will someday call our own.