I never thought my heart would grow roots in this foreign place.

New accents, new manners, sidewalks full of cracks, twisty limbed trees, the endless cry of seagulls. These features were not homey to me. They were daunting, intimidating, uncomfortable. I longed for mother, and a glimpse of prairie sky.

Then I met you, Moms like me, trying to fit all your roles, past and future, into a single pair of pants. We made playdates, we drank wine, we ate fondue. We spoke of birth, poop, lonliness, contrary natures, arguments, and the silliness of men.

You opened your hearts to me, and in doing so opened my heart to New Jersey.

Now here I am, tearing up again. I will miss the organic smell of spring, and the patter of heavy rain. I will sigh when none of my parks are near water,  and weeks pass without me hearing someone say “Yeah Right?” Most of all, I will miss you.

The saying goes, home is where your heart is, and it’s true. My home is back in Denver, but now, it’s also here with you.