For my entire adult life, I've moved pretty frequently. I think my longest stay at in one location was just over 3 years. The last several moves, however, have just been from one end of town to another. For the past almost 7 years, I'd gone to the same church, lunched at the same restaurants, and shopped at the same stores. I knew where all the local attractions were. I was even starting to be one of those people who gave directions based on where things no longer were. You know the ones: "Head north on Main Street, then take a left where they tore down that gas station."
I miss being well-attuned to my town. I don't know where things are here. For two weeks, I didn't even know what county I lived in! I just found out a couple of days ago that our local Wal-Mart is open 24 hours.
I miss my friends who knew me before I was a mom. Those who were there when I became a mom. And those who knew me even before Adam and I started dating. Long, long ago in a galaxy far, far away.
There is a technical term for what I've got: culture shock. I knew it was coming. It happens with any move to a new area. It caught me off guard, though. I wasn't expecting everything to be so ... ya know ... different.
It doesn't help that I haven't found everything, yet. In the house, I mean. I don't know where my crochet hooks are. Actually, I broke down and just bought several new ones. I was getting antsy. All of our books aren't out yet either, nor are our DVDs. And I don't know where my winter shoes are. I moved with just my Tevas and now that the highs are in the mid 40s, my toes are getting chilly.
Adam did find my favorite Bible the other day, though. I haven't had a regular prayer or devotional time since we've been here. Now that I think of it, that's probably not helping me keep a reasonable perspective on life.
Maybe I'll go get my Bible and have a nice talk with God before the rest of the house wakes up. And maybe I'll even have a cup of tea.
Anybody seen my mugs?