We’re moving again—this time back to where we grew up. Back to Michigan. Back home.
Although this time, it feels like I’m leaving home.

I didn’t mean for this to happen. In fact, I didn’t think it was even possible—not in five years, and certainly not in less than three. It hadn’t happened in Washington in eleven years. Honestly, I was planning on tanning and sewing for three to five years, soaking up the sun and making a few quilts—and I would’ve been perfectly happy. But it ended up being so much more.

I didn’t plan on falling in love with this place—to meet people who would change me, to make memories that will last a lifetime, or to grow so attached. But somehow, this city quietly became home. I didn’t mean to make friends who feel like family, to become part of the community, teach classes, help run a moms group, or become an awesome pickleball player.
I’ve been here less than three years, and yet… Artesia feels like home. Artesia is home.

I’ve found my people, my place—not because of school ties, family ties, or my husband’s work. But because I showed up.
I went to Mom’s Life at Faith Baptist Church (meets twice a month during the school year).
I went to Yarn United at the library (meets twice a month year-round).
I sat down with a random group of women at a community luncheon (highly recommend!).
I asked a muralist if I could help paint (okay—it was Kirsten).
I went to a pickleball open gym (at First Baptist and Faith Baptist).
I volunteered—to make cotton candy, to set up chairs, to prep for classes, and more.
I asked to teach art classes. Then I asked if I could put on a solo quilt show.
Because I saw an opportunity—a chance to do more, to become involved.

I’ve been to more football games, parades, library programs, art exhibits, mural paintings, church functions, showers, weddings, and funerals in the last two and a half years here than in eleven years in Washington. I realized that I need Artesia as much as Artesia needs me.
I belong. Maybe for the first time, I truly belong.

My niche here is a beautiful and crazy Venn diagram of the Artesia Public Library, Mom’s Life, the Artesia Arts Council, pickleball, Kith & Kin, and more—full of cheerleaders who root for me as much as I root for them. An intersection where I am seen, heard, and valued. I’ve found a community—something I never truly had in my hometown, something I didn’t even know I was missing.

I couldn’t possibly list all the people, events, groups, or places I’ll miss—there are too many. What I will miss is what makes Artesia special: the magic that lives in its people—people who look out for one another, who offer a hand without being asked, who invite a stranger to coffee, who show up—in celebration, at football games, and in times of need. At the library, on the pickleball court, at church—there’s a genuine sincerity here I’ve never experienced before. A connection that forms simply from showing up—even just once. Connections made almost instantaneously, but deeply significant.

There’s a grit and determination here to build something meaningful and lasting—whether it’s a new recreation center, the annual Women of Impact Awards, a fresh community mural, or a moms group.

I’ll miss the opportunities here. I never thought I’d teach classes to kids, design crafts for busy moms, or pick up a new sport in adulthood that I’m awesome at (okay—decent at). I’ll miss #puttingtheartinartesia and spreading sewing and art joy—all the chances to be more involved, teach more, do more. I’ll miss the small-town pace—where things slow down, friendships go deeper, conversations mean more, and memories are richer.

To the newcomers—and maybe even a few longtime residents—don’t let this pass you by. Take advantage of what Artesia offers. Find your people. Don’t be afraid to make friends, even if you’re only here temporarily or already have an established set. You might think it’s harder in a small town, but it’s not. Artesia is full of welcoming people—you just have to find them and say hello. Find the opportunities. (Hint: start at the library or Chamber Chat!) The feeling of belonging—of truly finding your place—is so much better than just going through the motions.
Find your people—the ones who see your spark and help it shine. Find them. Keep them. Glow on. Get involved—or start something yourself. If you’re interested in it, chances are someone else is too.

This town has given me so much more than I ever expected—a sense of belonging I didn’t even know I needed. Artesia isn’t just a place to live. It’s a part of who I’ve become. It’s taught me to live boldly, to be better, and—most of all—to belong. There’s something special about being known and valued in a place like this. I never expected to grow roots here—but I did. Unexpected roots, quietly strong and hard to leave behind. I’ll carry that with me wherever I go. Mostly—thank you.

Thank you, Artesia, for the opportunities. Thank you to everyone who encouraged me, supported me, and helped shape me into a better person. Thank you for welcoming me, for embracing me, and for showing me the true meaning of community. Thank you for making it so hard to say goodbye.

Artesia, you will always have a piece of my heart. Thank you for everything.

Until I return to Bulldog Bowl again, with much love,

Natasha Wilde