Tales from the house on the hill Part 2: Looking for a sign


We had lived in the house on the hill six days when it happened.

I was standing on the sidelines of soccer practice, shielding my eyes from the sun with my reporters note book when I heard the explosion.

The girls scrimmaging on the field stopped and we all turned in the same direction to find the source of the noise.

Across town a house had exploded. No not the house on the hill. Another house. But who knew someone else's disaster would change my life?

A rational person does not run to an explosion site. Reporters are not rational people.

It was 1 a.m. before I returned to the house on the hill. Exhausted but happy. I loved breaking news and I loved not having to drive two hours after a long day. 

Two weeks later I got "the call."

The call was from the (now former) editor of the daily paper. The lead paper owned by the man who owned the little weekly I was working for.

She was impressed by my work covering the house explosion and wanted to know if I was interested in working at the daily paper. And not just work there- did I want to cover the state and federal court system in Rome, Ga? Seriously.

It had always been my dream to work at a daily. A massive underlined statement in my life plan.

It isn't always easy, stepping into your own plans. The weekly paper was where I was warm and loved and cared for. It was a hard decision and it took me two full weeks, a lot of praying, talking to my bosses and family and friends.

One day I was IM'ing with my friend


I told her I was looking for a sign.

"I don't believe in signs," Sarah said. "But it you're looking for one don't you think your mind is already made up?"

She's a smart one, that Sarah. In fact, she is the kindest, most rational person I know.

Even if we do disagree on signs.

But it was hard. I was stepping out of my sweet little world where I covered stories about fund raisers and giant water melons and into a place where I got so nervous I forget my own name, and lock myself in the bathroom to cry every day for two weeks straight.

And then one day it just got easier. Isn't that the way life goes?

Next week: Echo

Tales From the House on the Hill Part 1: I'm Home