The Anchor

A few months ago I had some meetings in Monrovia. Now that is exciting for many reasons, namely: good (or at least better) food, friday night salsa, awesome friends that I didn't see very often and the beach (!!!!). In addition to all that, it means endless hours of free, wireless internet at the office. During one of those marathon internet sessions, which may or may not have been during a very important meeting, I found pinterest.

Now the rest of the world found it months or years before but I didn't live in the rest of the world so I was a little late to it. My favorite tabs are the home decor (dreaming of my own, permanent place someday), women's clothes (looking at all the sweaters that I wish we had weather for in hot, smoldering Liberia), quotes, and tattoos. I've been secretly, and not so secretly, wanting a tattoo for years. I've thought of a few things that I'd like but I keep finding myself being drawn to the anchors. Which makes sense, because for the past few months I've been feeling a bit lost.

Fast forward a few months and I'm now traveling in the Southeast. Visiting friends who I haven't seen in far to long. Meeting babies. Venturing out to all the old haunts. I drove through Asheville, remembering the sweet taste of all the creative exploits of Salsas, an all time favorite restaurant that has hosted me and all my nearest and dearest on many occasions (ok well, mostly all). A bit farther down the road, jumping with joy as the "Welcome to Tennessee" sign appeared around the curve. Walking to Market Square and remembering when it was just a bunch of rundown buildings and a Subway. Watching things bloom on a warm spring morning as I have since I was 4. You know, I was home. The familiar place. The place where everyone looks familiar because they are probably an old friend's sister or cousin. The place where you run into people you were in high school art class with in the grocery store or at yoga class.

Anyway, I think I've been thinking about anchors because I was longing for the people and places that anchor me. No matter how far I go, at home the grass still turns the same color green before all the trees start to sprout leaves in spring. My girls and I will always reminisce about the places we went and the things we did when we were 17. I'll still drive down the old back roads at very high speeds because I remember each turn and bend. All these things are who I am, part of me just like my arms and legs, no matter where I happen to end up. It all reminds me of who I wanted to be before I went off and before adulthood made everything complicated.