I was down in Virginia last week. I was raised in Virginia and lived there for the first fifty few years of my life. Most of my work involved traveling through the state and I knew the small towns, cities and countryside far better than most. I’ve visited hundreds of historical sites there and have absorbed the historical mythology of Virginia about as deep as humanly possible.

So it was a surprise to many when I moved to Vermont a little over three years ago, at age 54.

For many reading this, moving is just part of life, but for me, Vermont might have been a foreign country. The politics here run differently. The pace of life and people’s priorities are different. Even the stuff in the grocery stores is different.  Someone like me, who does several things for a living is an oddity in Virginia. Here in Vermont, it’s pretty much the norm.

I began to write entries in my blog labeled “A Virginian in Vermont”, where I noted some of the differences and what they made me think about, or how they made me feel. At the time, I thought they might evolve into some sort of column, but instead, they slowly faded away, replaced with other thoughts and priorities.

When I was in Virginia last week, I found myself telling people “I’m from Vermont.” Not “I live in Vermont”, or “I used to live here but right now I am in Vermont.”. No, I realize I am a Vermonter, and my new state has sunk into my soul enough that I don’t just claim my state, it is now a part of me.

Yes, I still have my Virginia roots, but my branches reach out to the Vermont sun. Here is where my growth is, where my energy comes from, where my flowers bloom. I have changed, become something new. A Vermonter.

That kind of change takes time. It has to soak into your soul. And it takes openness, both mine and the openness of people who have shared themselves and their own sense of place with me. I am very, very grateful.

Will I stay here? Very likely. I love it here. But then, I loved it in Virginia. Life, I have learned, is full of change, opportunity, disaster and growth. I don’t predict the future any more. I live the now.

As a Vermonter.

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The picture above was taken just outside West Pawlet, VT. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom