Kimberly Belle 

I grew up in Eastern Tennessee, in a small town nestled in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. Back then I couldn’t find an ounce of beauty in the blue ridges and green valleys and roaring streams, couldn’t find an ounce of appeal in the winding country roads. I was slave to my wanderlust. The summer after high school, I fled to Atlanta to attend Agnes Scott College, a small liberal arts school for women and a four-year pit stop on my quest to see the world. It was in Atlanta I met the Dutchman, who whisked me off to the Netherlands. What was meant to be a six-month stay turned into twelve freezing but fabulous years, during which I began checking off the countries on my to-see list. Two decades later, I’ve still not seen them all. Living abroad changed me in ways I can’t count, and though I don’t have the passport to prove it, I am in my heart and soul half Dutch. I know the culture, I speak the language like a native, I love that country like my own. Ten years ago, the Dutchman and I moved back to Atlanta with our two children, but every chance I get, I hop a plane to Amsterdam, so I can stick my toes in sandy Dutch soil. And of course, wherever I go, the laptop also travels.
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