It’s Time To Move Home.

I grew up in Small Town, Ohio and moved to Ohio’s capital city for college.

After living there for seven plus years, I felt restless. I considered what life would have been like if I chose a school in another state, or even another country. Would I have a different career, husband, perspective on life? Probably.

While Columbus had been my home for my so-far adult life, I hadn’t bought a home, I didn’t have kids, and my husband was open to a change too. So we picked up our things and moved them 2,447 miles to San Francisco. I guess we were looking for a breath of fresh air.

And that’s exactly what we got:

And extremely fresh poop-on-my-stoop air (no photo available)…

I lost track of the number of times a homeless person sat on me, spat on me, farted on me, dropped their weed on me, and asked me out for breakfast.

In the last two years, I’ve lost track of the number of pigeons that have made Andrew jump and scream like a child when they get close.

I’ve lost track of the number of times I walked up our third-floor walk up and how many times I’ve literally walked up hill both directions to my destination.

But I’ve also lost track of the times I’ve stopped mid-sentence to take in the mind-blowing scenery of the city, the bay, the ocean, the mountains, the forests and most importantly the people.

I’m leaving San Francisco before I’m really ready. I’m still romantically in love with this weird place and the people who inhabit it.

I have learned so much about what it means to be different and how that should be celebrated, not made excuses for.

I have a greater appreciation for diversity and how beautiful other languages sound when blended together on a morning bus ride.

I am inspired to do what I want, without anyone else’s approval.

I have finally come to the realization that my career does not define me. I am a great employee, but on bad days, I’m still a wonderful person.

I’ve learned what is important to me in friendships and in coworkers and in bosses.

And believe it or not, I’ve gotten even closer to my family being this far away from them.

But most of all, I have learned that I can do anything I dream of. With a little planning and a partner-in-crime, I can build the life I want, not the life I think I’m supposed to have.

So as I begin packing my belongings into boxes, getting quotes from moving companies, writing cover letters for jobs back in Ohio, I return with a new sense of self.

I choose to build my life and plant roots in Columbus, Ohio. And while I’m sad to leave San Francisco, I’m proud to return home.

Instead of bored with Columbus, I am grateful. For clean streets, for stable job opportunities, for plenty to do with a reasonable cost of living, and for a beautiful collection of friends from all over the country.

Moral of the story: If you have ever thought about leaving, do it. People will be sad. You’ll be sad (and scared). It will change your life. But when you come home, you’ll never want to leave again. I think that’s the point of an Amish Rumspringa, right?

I’m looking forward to walking down the wine aisle in the grocery store and picking a bottle from a winery I used to frequent in person.

I’m looking forward to warm summer nights around a bonfire with friends I’ve known for decades.

I’m looking forward to eventually buying a home, starting a business and having children. And I’m also looking forward to vacations home to the City by the Bay.

Now if only Columbus could take care of those pesky bugs and snow!