In my 62 years, I’ve lived in seven houses, a college dorm, a sorority house, five apartments and three duplexes. I’ve lived in seven cities, five in Wisconsin, one in Florida and one in Nevada. I’m not sure if in today’s world this would be considered noteworthy transplantation, but I do know that with every move, the quest has always been to settle in, find my place, and feel like I am Home (capital H).

Eau Claire is where we, my husband and I, most recently landed, and we’ve lived here for almost a year now, on the far northwest side. We didn’t realize when we moved here, into our home (my seventh), that we were on the very cusp of the city, but we also quickly learned that we are only about 15 minutes away from anything, from everything. I recall joking with a woman who has lived here her whole life about this 15-minute concept; she looked at me solemnly and said, “It’s TRUE. In Eau Claire there are always five different ways to get from one place to another, but regardless of where you’re going, it only ever takes 15 minutes.”

Eau Claire has been a great place to land, and its growing population (73,000) is vibrant without being overwhelming; there is always something interesting to do, and best of all, there is still a healthy dose of Midwest nice. 

But settling into a community — we’ve learned over time — is a long process. A transplant in a new city does a lot of throwing stuff at the wall to see what sticks — and then having to decide if what sticks is enough. We lived in Las Vegas for three years and ultimately left, at least in part, because I could not find people to form a book club with. I’m not saying there are no readers in Vegas, but I sure couldn’t find them, and that mattered to me.

We lived in the small village of Biron (population 852) outside of Wisconsin Rapids for seven years, but that ran its course, too. We thought we’d love a quieter pace living on the river, but we discovered (after owning two boats) that we are not boaters, and neither are we people who like to fish, camp, or hunt — many of the mainstays of Central Wisconsin — and although I did find an amazing book club and some lifelong friends there, we realized that the search for our next city was a little like Goldilocks’ quest: we’d experienced too big, and then too little, and what we were looking for — just right — we found in Eau Claire. We moved and were ready to dig in.

So, in our first year, we’ve joined one gym, I’ve practiced yoga at two studios, and between me and my husband, we’ve held three part-time jobs. We’ve enjoyed countless community events: readings, live music, and tastings at breweries. We’ve found numerous trails to walk and stairs to climb for exercise. We’ve snacked on Water Street, had drinks on Barstow, and went to our first Eau Claire Express game — we are definitely working to see what sticks.

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I believe we have found our Home.

We've landed in a city designed for connection – two rivers, seven footbridges, 50 community parks, hundreds of weekly events. Believe me, I've done the math; I don't think we can go wrong.

And while we, my husband and I, have always lived anticipating our next adventure, we’ve also begun to understand that it’s time to plant ourselves somewhere for good. There’s the realization that, while exciting, transplanting is also hard. When you’re new to town, the onus is on you to break the ice, to put yourself out there, to extend the invitation. We’re social people — we’ve hosted several dinners, met new friends for coffee and chit chat (me) or for beer and sports (my husband). But still, we haven’t found — not here, not yet — our “refrigerator rights” people. It takes longer to find these folks these days, at our age, without full-time careers or young kids with activities, things that really ground people in a community.

But the desire to stay put is also about more than the challenge of starting over. It’s the yearning for the sturdy roots of community that comes with getting older. We have people we love in many cities across the country, but we also want to enjoy what frequent movement has not allowed: participation in a life that only dedicated time in one place creates. We want to know our neighbors (and their children, their dogs), we want to be known as regulars at a favorite restaurant (“they like to sit near the front window”), and we want to watch “our” city evolve, to participate in its change and growth. 

I believe we have found our Home. We’ve landed in a city designed for connection — two rivers, seven footbridges, 50 community parks, hundreds of weekly events. Believe me, I’ve done the math; I don’t think we can go wrong.