I grew up in Eastern Washington, along the banks of the Columbia River. The summers were perfect, the seasons were beautiful, and it was all I knew. When I was in the 8th grade, my family moved to Utah. Utah was my parent's home. They had been away for almost 30 years and they wanted to go back. I didn't understand the long winters and I missed my home.
It wasn't until I started a summer internship after my sophomore year of college that I found my home in Utah. I worked in the city center and my aunt was kind enough to let me stay with her in the Avenues. Just like that I was home. After my husband and I married we lived in that neighborhood for five wonderful years.
After those five years, we got stuck. It seemed as though a path was created just for us to move to Coastal Texas. My husband has spent the last two years working harder than he ever has. He has been pursuing his Masters, teaching, and coaching. It's been insane. We have hoped that all this hard work would pay off, and guess what? It has.
Steve has accepted a job teaching AP History back on the Wasatch Front. We are so excited to go home. We can't wait to bundle up at winter time and for Tate to know his cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. We are excited to be surrounded by the mountains and for our families to know our newest babe.
We can't wait to be home.