Called…home?

I’ve always felt drawn to certain places on the map, destinations I’ve never seen in person — for me, traveling is among those secret dreams we all hoard like silent little treasures in some shadowy corner of our hearts where unrealistic things live.

For several years now, I have also experienced a stronger pull toward one place in particular…not just to visit, but perhaps as a long-term relocation someday. There are many practical reasons I could give, and many airy-fairy ones too, for why that particular locale holds my interest. It’s a specific area of a country in Europe.

Beneath them all, though, is that core, unshakable longing for a place whose air I’ve never breathed, whose earth has never cooled my sun-warmed feet. Somehow, this place is in my very bones…perhaps moreso than I ever could have guessed:

One of my more passing hobbies has been genealogy (I get bogged down in all of the names and dates after a while and need air, but it is intriguing). It’s something I dip into and then move on until the next time I get randomly curious.

The other day, I found an ancestry tool that tracked “historically unusually high” surname concentrations (places folks with that surname came from), and on a whim I entered my maiden name.

Using that tool and a few others to double-check, I discovered that the earliest origins of the name (and the heaviest concentrations of it, hundreds of years ago) seem to have occurred within an easy (modern) drive from the area of my daydreams.

I ended up just staring at the map, dumbstruck. What does it mean?

Why have I been so drawn for so long to what is essentially my ancestral family seat, when I didn’t even know I had ties there until a few days ago?

Do we have these calls in our blood, beckoning us home? Is it the Ancestors, whispering through time and DNA to connect us with forgotten places?

What do you think? Has anyone experienced anything similar? What did you do about it?