So long, Home + Work

For most of my life, I’ve been chasing home and never really finding it. 

I’d look for it in my mom’s childhood bedroom, her blue carpet holding my big dreams (and endless questions) as I spent summers with my grandparents and cousins. 

I’d look for it wherever my parents’ jobs took them, always following a promotion or the promise of easier access to family. 

I’d look for it in the books and stories that transported me out of my life, to lands where red ferns grew; secret gardens bloomed; long, dusty roads led to loving arms; and sidewalks ended. I’d wonder if there were faraway worlds I needed to explore before I could build my own. 

And while I was doing all of those things, searching outside of myself for a definition that made sense, it coalesced around me. 

I married a man I met on a cold December night in 2010, his hand on the small of my back radiating a warmth, a knowing of the safest thing I’ve ever felt. We adopted a tabby cat and then a six-toed, grey brother for her a year later. I had a baby and started a business while my infant son slept in his swing in front of me, tick-tocking while I responded to emails. 

I moved us north and north again, finally able to afford both a garage and a yard in Edmonds. I had another baby, became obsessed with the fact that moving somewhere more walkable kept me from growing cankles the second time around. 

And, I started writing about this magical place I’d never really considered until it drew me in, a lighthouse beckoning me to shore. 

All of that brought me here, to my last column, written from the best definition of home I’ve ever found. So long to Home+Work, and hello to all the new that will arrive in its wake.

I’ve got a great novel ready to ride in the passenger seat as I wait at the front of the line for my kids to emerge from school, which starts this week. 

I’ve got friends and colleagues and frequent collaborators from Seattle to San Juan Island. I have drawers to clean and a fall wreath to hang on the door. 

It’s a good life, a beautiful one. Thank you for allowing me into your lives to share pieces of my home, ideas about work, and how they can play nicely together in the sandbox. 

This is my last column, and, if I can leave you with anything, I hope it’s that life is too short to stress about how and where you spend your days. 

We are blessed to live in a place that’s easy to love. How much time are you getting to sink into it, to see a movie at The Edmonds Theater, to congratulate Double DD Meats on their milestone anniversary before walking a lap or three at Lake Ballinger? When was the last time you invited someone you admire to that delicious Korean dessert cafe on the 99? What have you built your life to allow?

Home is created every day, and there will always be more work to do. 

So, where do I leave you?

I write and share about this beautiful area in a few places:

• Explore Edmonds, which is technically written for tourists (but boy, do I know you locals have lots of opinions to share!)
• The Edmonds Downtown Alliance
• The Workhorse Coworking blog 
• My Instagram, where I celebrate this area on the daily
• And if you want to know what I’m up to, the best place to keep in touch is through my infrequent newsletter 

I’ve been thinking a lot about the upcoming school year and how I want to tackle the proverbial balancing act of it all. I’m ready — and excited — for the challenge, because it’s all an opportunity to build a home and work lifestyle I love, and get to know more deeply every day. Thank you for being a part of it these past few years. 

If you want to keep publications like this one supporting your community, please please consider donating. I know I will.

And I have a pretty strong sense I’ll be seeing you around town soon.

Whitney Popa is a writer, editor and consultant for little companies with big dreams. A born communicator, she connects people through stories. She believes strongly in many things, including expensive sweatsuits, off-road vehicles, good books and bad TV. With her two cats, two kids and one husband, Whitney splits her time between Edmonds and Waterville, WA.