Leaving on a Jet Plane

Leaving a place is always bittersweet for me. Of course I'm moving on to great new adventures, following my heart, and starting a new life in Texas. But I'm also leaving behind the life I've developed here in Michigan. For the first extended period of time, I lived by myself (well, with my dog Rori) in an apartment I paid for myself. I moved to a state not knowing a single other person. I overcame my fear of going into restaurants alone. Even though I considered myself as being an independent woman, I realized I wasn't quite as independent as I had originally thought before moving to Michigan. 

As time passes, I'll eventually forget the name of my favorite restaurant in Kalamazoo and the street names. The addresses I once called home will fade in my memory. I'll forget how long it takes to get from Buchanan to Cassopolis and Grand Rapids to Hart. Those aren't the important things to remember, though. 

I've been blessed to have met really great people: Keith and Liz at my favorite pub in Kalamazoo; my customer Joel who told me I was too young for my job and made me work harder to prove him wrong; Jason and Nate who drove two hours on a Saturday morning to help me move out of my apartment; and Bart who took me under his wing and helped me through the challenges of my new career and of being alone in a new area of the country. 

Over the course of ten months, I gained some very valuable career experience and learned about entirely new facets of agriculture. I will never forget riding on a grape harvester, the smell of mint growing in the field, or the taste of strawberries straight out of the field (or the strawberry coma I went into after inhaling a couple of pounds). 

Michigan has given me some very unforgettable moments of beauty: a perfect October day of hiking and splashing along the sand dunes of Lake Michigan with Rori; driving six hours out of our way with Bart to see the Grand Traverse Lighthouse; sunsets over cherry orchards and grape vineyards; and the colors of autumn, breathtaking at every turn of the road. 

These are the memories that don't fade with time. These are the memories that will stay with me and have helped mold me into who I am today. The thought that makes it bittersweet is the idea of never being the exact same as I have been here again. Sure, change is inevitable, and that's good! But I'll never be this Kaitlyn again, the chemistry-trainee-who-had-never-been-to-Michigan-until-she-moved-here Kaitlyn. 

Enough of this deep reflection stuff. Here's some John Denver "Leaving on a Jet Plane" to leave you with because that's what I'm doing. Leeeeeeaving on a jet plane, Don't know when I'll be back again. 

Michigan Kaitlyn out.

Movin' on Michigan.

Ten months ago I moved to the Mitten state, officially known as Michigan. Seven months ago I expected to be moving to Texas - before the snow and the cold settled on Michigan, and three months before my apartment lease was up. Four months ago, I accepted the fact I'd need to pack up my apartment for storage. Two months ago I had almost given up hope of being relocated to Texas within my company. One week ago everything changed.

In a couple of days, I'll be jumping on an airplane bound for Amarillo, TX and waving goodbye to Michigan. It is the end of an era for me. No longer am I free to pack up and move wherever or whenever I please. No longer will I have to give a paragraph description of where I call "home" because for the first time in eight years, I will finally be home. They say "home is where the heart is," and that's the truth for me. The love of my life is in the Texas Panhandle on a cotton farm and cattle ranch so I'm headed to make a home with him. In August, my last name is changing, moving one step down the alphabetical order - going from an N to an O.

Not a native Texan myself, I know I have a few things to learn, like I'd better start brushing up on my Texas history and geography ASAP. I need to ditch the phrase "you guys" from my vocabulary and replace it with "y'all." My spicy food tolerance... well, I'll work on that too. I have to adjust to seeing those silly registration stickers on my windshield. Oh, and my "everything's bigger and better in Texas" attitude will need some development as well. Despite the daunting list of "Texanisms" to learn, I couldn't be more excited to become a Texan! It is going to be a heck of a ride so be prepared for stories of struggles, triumph and Texas. Yeehaw!