I don’t love where I live. I like my tiny, historic home and the proximity to friends, family and Targets, but I don’t love my city.

I don’t love how it sprawls across the desert, stretching itself too thin. I don’t love the unimaginative housing developments and the Stepford track houses, each one identical and packed together like cigarettes in a box. I don’t love the barrage of sunny days that mock and taunt while they slowly drive you insane with endless repetition.

I came to the desert two months shy of my 14th birthday. It’s now been 14 years. I could have moved when I was 18, or 19, or 20, or any time between then any now, but there’s always been an excuse- money, family, college, fear, laziness.

And there will always be a reason not to do something. But the days are going to pass, regardless of what we do during them. We can either wallow in our wants or learn to be grateful for what we have. These two dichotomies aren’t mutually exclusive though. We can appreciate what and who surrounds us while still searching for home.

When my future husband and I dream of where we want to wake-up each day, we imagine ourselves surrounded by woodsy mountains and thick foliage and smoky rain. Sunlight filters through the leaves and lays dappled on a mossy forest floor. There’s room to grow food and animals and babies and dreams and everyday holds the opportunities to learn to rely on the land and each other and ourselves. It’s a far cry from the sparse and parched suburb we live in now.

But there’s beauty in all things, waiting to be seen. Sometimes, it’s just a matter of changing your perspective, like gaining a new angle on an old image. It gives us hope to create actionable steps to achieve the life we want for ourselves and our family. But in the mean time, while we wait for our plans to unfold, we’ve decided to try to love where we live.

This book that speaks about this exact topic. I look forward to being consumed by it for the next few days. I really hope I can make the most of my desert home and love it for what it is rather than resenting it for what it isn’t.

Today is the last day of September. It’s also a black moon, which scientists say won’t occur again until July 2019. It’s also six weeks until my wedding. I can’t help but think where I’ll be in 2019. Or who I’ll be. Or who I’ll be with. But I’m very much looking forward to finding out.

I met my future husband online in November of 2015. For our first date, he took me to a vegetarian restaurant because he got that “crunchy vibe” off me. I was hooked. Three months later we exchanged “I love yous”. Six months later he moved in. Eight months later he proposed (at a Modest Mouse concert no less). And three weeks later we booked a cozy little venue for the anniversary of that first date. Which is in 6 weeks. That’s a wedding planned in four months.

It’s crazy how quickly things can change. In a single moment, your whole is altered- a swipe, a signature, an I do… Life seems to be a series of big build ups that culminate in one precious moment. Decisions we thinks are minuscule can end up having the most profound effects on our lives. It’s only in hindsight that we pinpoint the instant that changed everything.

I think back to those moments and revel in them. I’m in love with those moments. I’m so exuberantly happy with myself for making those decisions that, at the time, seemed so insignificant. I can be so hard on myself and unforgiving, but when I think back to my life changing moments, I’m a proud mama bear of my past self. It gives me hope that my future self can make some pretty awesome choices to. I’m very much looking forward to the next black moon.