Not all who wander are lost...

I am a wanderer.

I don't know why. I don't know what it is about me that can't quite settle down. All I know for certain is that I am a wanderer.

It is the reason I married my first husband. (That would imply I have a second or even multiple husbands, but alas, so far just the one...and a half. We're engaged.) Back to the first husband.

Seriously...I married him because I knew that if I did, I wouldn't live my entire life in the small town I grew up in. There's nothing wrong with that town, located in the Adirondacks. There's nothing wrong with the people. There's nothing wrong, except that it isn't right for me.

So, I wander.

When my daughter was seven and my son was four and my marriage was on the rocks, I packed up the kids and everything my Plymouth Breeze could hold. In my purse was my entire life savings...$400. I left my mother's lakeside condo at midnight and headed south to Charlotte, NC. We made it in one day...arriving by dinner time at my now ex-sister-in-law's apartment.

That was nine years ago. Nine long years. That's the longest I've lived anywhere my adult life. And I am ready for a change. I need a change of scenery and career and life.

See, that's what dreamer's do. That's what wanderer's do.

We take risks. We deny the possibility of failure. We make our dreams a reality.

We believe that if we are willing to work toward our goals, anything is possible. That's why I continue to wander. I know what my dream is. And I'm getting closer. I live to try new things, have new experiences, and explore possibilities.

It has always worked for me. There have been struggles. There has been plenty of strife. And now I need it to work again.