I don't want my kids to ever hate where they live. When I was a teenager and even into my twenties I always felt like I was supposed to be somewhere else. I would beg and beg my parents to pack up and move us to Florida, or at least help me move to Florida. I always thought that by moving I would somehow be happier and more comfortable and everything would just be different. Maybe it is possible, to be happier living somewhere else, but for me I believe it's important to be happy with where I am first- no matter where that is. I thought packing up and moving was somehow going to "fix" everything and anything in my life that "needed" to be "fixed". I was trying to run away instead of facing life and the girl in the mirror. Just like anything else, moving would have been exciting and fun and wonderful for a while, but eventually life would have caught up to me. And then what?
It isn't about whether or not we can go to the ocean on any given day or if the temperature is in the eighties year round, it's about building meaningful memories wherever we are. And I hope my kids will remember that in order to be truly happy somewhere else, you first must be happy where you are.
I hope when my kids think of fall they will remember apple picking with us and tractor rides and eating freshly picked apples. And I hope they remember corn mazes and picking out their favorite pumpkins and carving pumpkins and baking apple pies with daddy and how cozy and warm and homey our house felt with apple and pumpkin spice candles flickering in the kitchen.
We made apple pies and took the girls apple picking last weekend at a farm that Josh and I started going to years ago when we were dating. One of my favorite fall traditions.