I’m from Logansport, Indiana. But at 24—fresh out of college—I packed up my life and moved to Pensacola, Florida. What was supposed to be just the next chapter ended up becoming a whole damn book.
I lived there for eight years. Eight years of becoming, unraveling, rebuilding, and becoming again.
Pensacola is where I worked my first real “adult” job as an elementary school teacher (an adventure in every possible definition). It’s where I burned out, quit, went back, burned out again. It’s where I started thinking seriously about law school and studied for the LSAT while working at a few different law firms that showed me what life could look like on the other side of a classroom.
It’s where I made my second family. Lifelong friends. People who changed my life and kept me going. I lived so much life there.
And now, I’m back in Indiana. I’ve been home for a year—close to family, grounded in ways I didn’t know I needed. And I’m happy. Truly.
But I miss Pensacola.
Like, ache-in-my-chest miss it.
This week I’m on a short vacation in Gulf Shores, Alabama. It’s only 30 minutes from Pensacola, and the second I stepped out into the warm, humid air, it hit me. That Gulf breeze, the smell of saltwater—it’s like my soul recognized it before I did.
I’m planning to go back to Pensacola at least once—probably twice—while I’m here. The first trip is already set. I have a 3:30 hair appointment with Tasha, the only person I’ve let touch my hair since right before the pandemic. Even after moving away, I haven’t let anyone else near it. I saw her last summer when I came down to pack up my house on Main and E Street—a house I deeply loved.
So yeah. I’m making a whole day of it.
No alarm. Just vibes.
I’ll probably hit up one (or two, let’s be real) of my favorite downtown coffee shops. I might grab an açaí bowl from Bodacious Brew, go on long walks, maybe even walk by my old house at 615 South E Street. It’ll be bittersweet, no doubt.
Especially because—I kid you not—I accidentally had a bunch of packages shipped there recently. (Oops.)
Two telescopes.
Some Anthropologie clothes I’d been so excited to wear on this trip.
All sent to my old address. But then something beautiful happened…
The woman who lives there now found me on Facebook.
She’s from Cuba, and we’ve been communicating using a translator app. She’s so kind. She told me her family is new to the U.S. and they’ve just moved in. We’ve made a plan for me to come pick up my things, and honestly, I’m really looking forward to meeting her. It feels like a full-circle moment in some strange, magical way.
The kicker? She messaged me the same day I left for this trip. The timing? Wild.
And while Gulf Shores is nice, it’s not quite Pensacola. It’s more touristy, less diverse, a little too polished around the edges. But the air? The air still feels like home. It wraps around me like a memory.
I’ve cried a little already, not gonna lie. I miss Pensacola so much.
But I’m also grateful—for both places. For everything they gave me.
I wish I could live in both at once.
But for now, I’ll settle for a visit, some sunshine, and a fresh haircut.
Pensacola, I’ll see you soon. I still love you.
Tags: Pensacola, Homecoming, Travel, Reflections, Moving, Life After Teaching, Gratitude, Friendship, Second Home, Hairdresser Loyalty, Small Moments, Big Feelings
If you’ve ever felt caught between two places you love, I’d love to hear your story. Drop a comment or send me a message. 💛