We all do it. Even those of us who shy away from it, we adapt to change. I used to thrive on change. I probably still do. It’s just hidden behind my homebody tendencies and my narrowed focus on the things I like to do – riding, ranching, fitness, writing…shocking revelations, I know.

When I moved 1,500 miles from the only home I’d ever known to a place I’d never been, it was a big change. While we’re stating the obvious, it was scary. I didn’t know a single person here, had only talked to my interview committee one time on the phone and that first afternoon when I was unloading my car? Some guy tried to persuade me to go home with him.

I unpacked my car like I was the Flintstones running their wooden-wheeled car down the road and then locked myself in my apartment. It was an amazing first night in my new digs.

But I adapted. I learned to like it. Then I learned to love it.

It hit me tonight as I was driving home, one hand crooked over the steering wheel, humming along to Loretta Lynn, that I wasn’t paying one whit of attention to where I was going. I’ve become so comfortable on these winding, narrow roads that I can belt out bad renditions of Coal Miner’s Daughter, forget to turn on my windshield wipers and swoosh right on by the guardrails that stand six inches off the fog line without flinching.

We all adapt to change. Which is good, because we’ve all got challenges and changes waiting for us around the next curve on these roads we’re traveling.

{image by Chris Devaraj (cc)}