Last night, after a challenging afternoon with our puppy that ended in me absolutely needing ice cream, Rob came home from a Hornets game and we ended up driving to the Dairy Queen in Plaza Midwood for a late-night dessert.

It was one of those muggy spring nights that feels more like summer than anything else--79 degrees at 9:45 PM, windows down on the highway with the new Death Cab for Cutie album blaring, hair sticking to my damp shoulders. A line around the corner for ice cream and the smell of honeysuckle in the air.

It felt a lot like home.

Lately we've been talking about what our life might look like if Rob had to travel for work, and the other day I had a bit of a breakdown when what had been excitement and opportunity turned temporarily into sadness and frustration: I've worked really hard for this home. We said we wouldn't move again, so we found a running path and a coffee shop and we got a dog and I painted a wall in our bedroom and bought a six-month barre membership. Because we live here. 

When we moved here last August and I didn't like it, I pushed through and forced myself to call it home. And it worked--we live here and I like it.

It means something to belong somewhere, even if you have to force it at first.

But I always manage to find pieces of myself everywhere we go. There will be warm nights and chocolate-dipped ice cream cones that remind me of my childhood; and every time I hear Little Wanderer I'll remember that first spring after we were married when we drove around Charlotte for no reason at 10 PM on a Wednesday, breathing in the humid air and wondering what might be next for us. 

Whether it's a hotel room in New York City or a house with a front porch and a backyard in Charlotte, home will always be wherever we find ourselves.

Photo by V.A. Photography.

On Wednesday morning I was driving through Cornelius, North Carolina--a quaint and sleepy-feeling town just about a half hour north of Charlotte. As I drove through downtown, three twenty-something guys were running at a quick pace down the sidewalk in running shorts and thin tee-shirts that were soaked through and clung to each one of their chests. They were tall and lean and all had the same hair cut--they looked like they were once cross country teammates and had been running together ever since.

Suddenly I thought of all the running I've done in my life, specifically at Ragged Mountain Running Camp--that hazy weather and the early runs in the still-dark morning of Crozet, Virginia. My best girlfriends, feeling more like family than ever in that old house at the bottom of the hill. The sports bras hanging in the shower, the beds we insisted on moving into one room so we could all be together the whole week. The bottled Starbucks drinks Shawna kept in the tiny fridge, the bunched-up newspaper we all stuffed into our wet and muddy running shoes after every run. It was breakfast in the cafeteria and afternoon races and baby I'll be your huckleberry playing on repeat.

I've lived in Virginia for most of my life (Minnesota was such a significant time and the Midwest really spoke to me in many ways, but I forget sometimes that it was only a year), but that morning, driving down the road in North Carolina, I felt so thankful to be back in the South. Thankful for this deep and Southern part of myself that I didn't realize I had. Thankful for life on the East Coast. And thankful for the friends that were once cross country teammates, who I've been running with ever since.

Happy Tuesday (and St. Patrick's Day)! I meant to post something yesterday but I felt like I needed a weekend to recover from my weekend!

On Saturday morning Rob and I woke up and took Ender to Atherton Market for coffee. It's been so fun finding dog-friendly places in our neighborhood and bringing him with us almost everywhere. We took our coffee to go and headed back home to relax on the couch a bit because it was rainy and grey and we had originally planned to go on a long walk.

After about a half hour, there was a knock at the door, so I got up to answer it and standing there in the hallway was my mom! She and Rob had talked the night before and she decided to come down for the weekend and surprise me. The rain had stopped and the sun came out so we walked to lunch, visited a couple of breweries, and went out to dinner.

Then on Sunday we had the most gorgeous afternoon barbecuing on our courtyard with mimosas and plenty of sunshine. I drank half a bottle of champagne and absolutely had to have an ice cream sundae. (Then we made gluten-free pizzas and watched a movie before calling it a night!)

What a great weekend. Spring is here and I'm totally okay with it.