I grew up in Northern California, in a medium sized town where everything I needed was literally a short drive away. We had Costco, Walmart, 4 church buildings, and more grocery stores then I can count. Let's not forget downtown with boutiques, eateries and tattoo parlors galore. The local colleges (there were two) boasted a fabulous music and art departments, which held exhibitions and concerts regularly.
With all these services within my grasp, I still longed for adventure. The excitement of moving somewhere I've never been and starting from scratch--new friends, new house, new mountains (aren't there mountains everywhere?). To make a long story short, "adventure" came when my husband joined the Army and we PCSed to a small post outside Kansas City. For those of you who aren't military affiliated, to PCS means the [insert military branch here] tells you where to go, who to bring with you, and how much of your stuff you can take--it's kinda like having a new set of parents, only these ones don't give you presents on your birthday.
We've been here a little over a year and I have literally been chained to post by my lousy direction sense. You read that correctly, I can have spent hours driving in circles around Kansas City trying to find anything from stores to the zoo. It hasn't been pretty. After my most recent hour and a half expedition through Kansas City, I vowed I would never go back until I had a GPS.
Yesterday I headed to the pawn shop and picked one up--then for the first time sense we've been here, I took my sons to see the Liberty Jail visitors center. I have always wanted to go on a church history tour (I am Mormon after all) so when I moved back East that was one thing I was really excited about.
The visitors center was beautiful, it reminded me of home and I'm grateful to have finally made it there. Now, after a year, I've started to explore. For me, Liberty is just the start.