Moved...

I turned 34 this week. I always think about Jesus and my dad when I think of that number. So Jesus died about age 33. And now I am older than Jesus. It just makes me think, "I am older than Jesus. I better get busy". And then I recall being a child and telling others that my dad was 34. He is kinda always that age in my head. At the time, I would have been 7. I think it must have been that age when I learned my address and phone number...and parents' ages. I think for a moment, how different our lives are. Single. No kids. He was married. Two kids. Two jobs. Playing football with students in the backyard. Teaching me to ride a bike. Pretending to comb out my tangled mass of long wet curls in front of the television, but never combing below the first layer. My days are so different. (I have no clue when Mom turned 34, she never tells her age.) 
On the same day I turned another year older, I moved out of my house. Happy and blessed and delighted to be moving, but mostly realizing I don't think I will ever be back. So I reckon I am going through a mourning of sorts, of what was. All of that life is not coming back. I don't want it to, but it is all I know and it was mine. I loved my days of running all over College Park. I loved growing up under the Gold Dome. I loved getting to experience the finest of all that the State of Georgia had to offer. I loved my old life. But it is time. I am moved. Physically. Emotionally. So it hurts a little? But I got to celebrate with Betsy and Jill and Alan and Reality TV, complete with cake and ice cream and it was truly all I could ever want. It just felt good to be with friends and the familiar. 
And now, I am back in the city of my birth. The place where I took my first breath. This little Yoknapatawpha County, otherwise known as, Hartwell. It still freaks me out a little to see people I know when driving down the street. It is small town here, y'all. But it is a huge part of me. Part of me starts to suffocate when I leave The Perimeter, but this little place, whether I like it or not,  kinda feels like a pair of Tod's loafers. It is familiar beyond description. Yet, I wanted to cry down the aisle of Ingle's and to be honest, I did. This transition time is hard. 
But guess what?  I have been incredibly blessed with the most adorable cabin on all of Lake Hartwell. I have my own private little sanctuary to perch and rest and prepare. It is so incredibly lovely. It is perfect. And now finally, most things are in order. I am moved. There are duffle bags in the basement here filled with kitchenware and my brand new Chaco's and needs for Mozambique. I have downsized my wardrobe and personal belongings to one closet. I am sending off my renewed 52 page Passport on Monday for my Mozambican Visa. The Volvo is For Sale. 

That's pretty much the update. I get to go back to Atlanta for Portuguese lessons this week. I think I will go to Whole Foods just because...