Coming Home?

I have lived in Prineville for more than ten years now and have always thought of it as home or at least for the past seven years.  If I was coming home from a journey either short or long; Costa Rica, San Francisco, Portland or just camping as I would drive either down the grade or down the long descent from highway 26 and a feeling of peace would wash over me; I knew I was home.  It never failed.  I have felt that at times just coming home from a trip to Bend.

I had never dreamed of living in Prineville although many others among my family and friends had.  I just ended up here after a hard life in Montana.  I hadn't planned to stay too long either.  Bend was a viable option or other places but Prineville grew on me and I stayed.  So much for those dreams of writing and traveling around the world.  Mine would be the life of jobs that weren't meaningful to me and a marriage that was not fulfilling.  But I told myself things would be great because I am an optimist.  

I have made the best of living in Prineville.  When I was without children my ex-husband and I traveled enough to keep me satisfied but not fulfilled.  I liked the work I was doing well-enough, although it wasn't my calling.  

When my kids came along I thought Prineville was the perfect place to raise them and it has been amazing.  We are blessed to spend our winters snowshoeing, our springs and autumns hiking and our summers swimming, canoeing, paddle boarding and doing anything else that gets us in the water.  And yet still something had been missing for me.  I have stayed in Prineville for the sake of my kids even though many had suggested I leave long ago.  

I have so many things to be thankful for here in Prineville.  I teach with the most amazing group of teachers I have ever met.  Each person cares immensely for each student and I am not just saying that.  Every teacher I work with sacrifices their time and money for our students.  I love my work.  It is fulfilling but still there is something missing in my life.  I have been dreaming of my own farm for many years but it has always hung just out of reach almost torturing me.  I have submitted multiple pieces of writing in hopes that something would get published and each rejection letter stings as much as the first.  I have wanted to live a life greater than the life I was living.  I have longed to travel to many amazing places, leaving for months at a time.  These were my dreams of my youth and they are powerful in my mind.  So I did something bold searching for the link I felt I was missing.

I could not have known that by going to Italy I would find the missing piece.  Something significant has changed in me.  When I last drove into Prineville it no longer felt like home.  It was a weird feeling that I let my heart embrace.  It circulated around me knocking me off balance.  What could this mean?
  Italy felt like home every minute I was there.  I miss socializing in the town squares, staying up late, rising with the sun and watching life being lived in perfect harmony with nature and humans.  Each day I awake thinking, how will I get myself back to Italy?  Of course I am aware of the reality of my situation and Italy is a long-term goal. It has to be except the visiting portion.
  And since I am home now I have decided to try and focus on what I love about Prineville and plan my next trip to Italy; solo or with kids. 

And lastly I have decided to focus on the question, what if I saved my money and bought a farm in Italy? What if?