The State of "Home"

Looking back at Year One.

It’s been one year since I started this newsletter, and almost two years since I conceived of it. At that time, I had just moved from Georgia to Washington. I didn’t know exactly what was ahead, but there was quite a lot behind me, and I wanted to write about it. Shaping the ideas under the theme of “home” has allowed me to look at significant life events in new ways, not just for static, retrospective purposes.

Washington doesn’t feel quite like “home” yet. I’m far from settled; hopscotching through four different houses in that time span has left us mentally and physically exhausted. But this place at least feels comfortable, and yet, still exciting and new. There’s a lot to appreciate: the political landscape, proximity to family and a smattering of great friends, good communities and schools and kind people. 

And, of course, the overwhelming natural beauty is more than enough to keep me excited to get out of the house every day….the blue-green splash of the ocean, and the accompanying salty smell that sometimes makes its way to my house, mingled with a neighborhood rife with lavender–the unofficial “state scent” (according to me). The silhouette cut by the ferry that embarks daily to venture out to the San Juan Islands (where people actually live! That you can only get to on a boat or a small plane!). On a clear day (or even a semi-cloudy day, of which there are many), I can see a) the Olympics, taller than I could have even imagined, poking out on the peninsula to the Southwest, b) Mount Baker (aka Mount Kulshan), an inactive volcano always covered in snow, c) the Cascades, a force to be reckoned with themselves, and d) jagged sawtooth mountains in Canada to the north (obviously). The sheer improbability of the existence of any one of these formations punches me in the gut each day, in the very best of ways.

What I’ve Learned: Podcasts and Essays

I’m pleased with the interviews I’ve conducted so far, especially since starting a podcast (albeit a low-key one) wasn’t something I’d planned on even a year ago. It’s a fun offshoot of what I was hoping to accomplish with this newsletter, and I’m looking forward to more interviews this year.

As far as the essays, I’m most proud of the one I wrote about my childhood home, 1202 Belt Line Boulevard. Twenty years in one house is difficult to encapsulate at all, much less in a readable—if lengthy—format. Still, I think I achieved what I set out to do, which was to shine a light on some of the important moments, but most of all, to capture the emotional framework of the house. Did I cry a little bit when I finished it? Maybe. That’s the sign of a satisfying writing process!

And while I truly love each and every piece I write, I also want to give a shout out (yes, a shout out to myself!) to my most popular one, Bostwick 108-A: Margarita Hall. This one touches on some not-so-comfortable stuff, and from what I’ve encountered, it doesn’t matter where you went to college: the highs and lows of college life are pretty universal experiences. It’s kind of amazing that we expect 18-year-olds to navigate some of this stuff, but hey, I’m pretty impressed with us! I have way more stories about college being home (or not); perhaps a few more will find their way into this newsletter later on.

And, of course, if you missed any of the essays or the podcast, there’s no particular order in which you are required to view them or listen—they’re meant to be evergreen, so there’s no expiration date and you won’t miss out if you skip a month or have to go back. Just make sure you read the intro essay first, which, if you’re reading this now, I’m assuming you have. But if you’re a new subscriber, that one gives an overview of the whole project. All of the essays and podcasts can be found on ashleighellskells.substack.com.

Challenges/Barriers

Setting a goal of one essay per month allowed me to hold myself accountable in a way that felt comfortable—challenging but not unachievable. But with a full time job, a family, moving so much (even smaller moves are time-consuming and energy-sucking!), and just life in general, sometimes even a monthly deadline has been tough. It’s helped that I planned this out for about a year beforehand and had plenty of ideas in my back pocket before I even began. That has helped me stay true to the general theme.

Overall, I set goals and I achieved them. Feels small, but when you’re a parent and an adult your ability to enjoy hobbies really shrinks, and this is one project that I feel good that I’m fulfilling.

Looking Forward

I’m still focusing on quality over quantity, so the frequency won’t change from once a month. As I mention in Welcome Home, I have at least three more years of topics to cover, so thanks (in advance) for joining me for the long haul! I’m excited to further explore the notion of “home” through the lenses of music and books and food, and will touch on those later this year.

Some of the topics to look forward to in 2023:

• Special places and people in Vermont

• Summer camp(s) in North Carolina

• An unlikely portal between a theater in Arizona and my high school drama room in South Carolina

• Other non-place-based examples of “home”

• Even more interviews for the podcast!

I’m also in the process of converting the essays into podcast form, which essentially means recording myself reading them in case anyone wants to access them that way. More information on those will come later this year.

Inspirations/Shoutouts

I follow a few other writers here on Substack, but I want to give a shout out to Finding Home, written by Jan Peppler, PhD. I found her newsletter through a Substack search, and have been delighted by her wisdom (and unofficial) mentorship. Jan is about a decade older than I and reflects, in similar ways, on her journey of finding home. Her recent adventures in purchasing a property in Italy has captivated my attention, and I highly recommend her work!

A note about a new option to support my writing monetarily

The way this platform is set up is that you can ask people to subscribe for a small fee, or to pledge to pay for a subscription at a later date. I knew that I would begin this process by sharing my work completely free—I’m not a celebrity with an automatic audience, so I don’t ever expect to make bank on this endeavor. In a fast fast world, I’m keeping this process intentionally slow (it’s an act of rebellion and necessity, really).

However, I do spend hours every month working on each essay, and almost the same amount of time setting up interviews and conducting and reviewing them. I’m not changing anything, other than adding the option to pay me (there are different levels, starting at a super low cost). And if you want to keep your subscription free, you don’t have to do anything. I’ll keep writing!

I can’t promise a great deal of special treatment in return, other than the few items mentioned in the Subcriber section, but that may change at a later point. Whether you support me monetarily or simply by reading my work, I appreciate it all.

Community and creativity are crucial

While I can’t speak for other writers, one important thing I’ve realized is this: these particular ideas had to come out before I could write anything else. I’ve found myself repeating some of these stories in my head for years, wanting to summarize these experiences, not just for myself (or for, at the time, my imaginary children), but to share with the world, just to see if they would resonate with others. The support from many of you—for years now—has encouraged me to keep going. I’m not getting paid to do this (well, not yet), and I spend far too much time in my head, thinking of the precise words and structure in order to do justice to what are essentially some of the most important moments in my life. (No pressure!) But ultimately it’s rewarding to do something I love and to find an audience, however intimate, that appreciates it.

The great thing about pushing myself through this (with another three+ years to go) is that it’s opened the door for other artistic endeavors to break through. I’m holding my secrets tightly right now, but I am grateful for the wave of creativity I’ve been riding this year.

And finally, thanks for reading!

If you’ve enjoyed this journey, let me know! If I’m missing something or there is more you’d like to see, please comment or reach out, and I’ll take it into consideration. I’d love for you to share it with your friends or anyone with whom my words might resonate.

We’re bombarded every day with far too many attention-sucking options, both online and in the real world. I don’t know about you, but this feeling can be overwhelming. I don’t expect every person to be interested in what I have to say, so it makes those who do pay attention extra special. And that’s…YOU! Thank you so much for reading.

And…Happy New Year!

Final Note: If you have an interesting journey to—or away from—“home”, drop me a line to see if your story might be a good fit for a future podcast episode. (I’m especially interested in talking to someone who has lived or is living internationally). I’m always happy to hear more!

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Image: The view from our backyard, two houses ago, mid-winter 2022.

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