Hello, my name is Kristyna and I think I've lost my mind. 

Yesterday my mom and I traveled to St. Joseph, Tennessee. Population: Less than 800. We stopped at the antique store owned by my aunt's cousin. When we walked in there was a sign in the front of the store that said the place was for sale. The owner told us how he wanted to sell the place within a few years to someone who wanted to keep it as an antique store, and he would move to Mexico after his granddaughter graduated high school.

As we started to pay for our things, my mom expressed how awesome the place would be to own. The owner said the place didn't cost as much as one might think.

He told us the cost. Multiple store fronts and five rooms, plus all the antiques? The place seemed surprisingly cheap. My mom turned to me and said, "Well that's something to think about..." And turning to the owner, "Not for me, for her."

Me. Owning an antique store in the tiniest town in Tennessee. A town that's essentially one main street. And on said street are two businesses—this antique store and the senior center next door.

The owner continued to tell us things like his monthly earnings; how much he pays for insurance; the vendors he has; and how the place is a regular stopping spot for pickers. He continued on about how Kacey Musgraves stops by about every three months, and how the lead singer of Led Zepplin stopped by the other day.

My mom and I proceeded to walk around the store with new eyes. As we did, something clicked inside me and my brain started to churn. It felt like all the things my mom and I have joked about over the years, like owning our own antique store and turning an old building into a loft, seemed maybe... doable.  

It seemed perfect and crazy and difficult and certifiably insane. Thoughts consisted of: How the hell could I get a loan? Could I find a part-time marketing job where I could work remote? You realize this would be a 24/7 job, right? Those thoughts were mixed with: We could turn this room into a loft apartment. The back room could be used as a shop for dad. We could brighten up the interior and exterior walls with fresh coats of white paint. We could reorganize this and that. The front porch could be turned into something extra special. Oh, and those window fronts. And we could make it a destination place for people to enjoy more than just antiques.

The whole ride home I kept questioning if this was something that could be possible. There are so many logistics and things to consider and things that would have to happen. I went to bed thinking about how I've been praying for something to work toward—a goal—because I've struggled with figuring out what I want to do with my life. & Something inside me has been saying for months that life shouldn't be about settling. & That all those people who say life is short are right. & How you shouldn't sit back and accept failure before it happens and settle. Nothing great would happen in this world if people never pursued their dreams.

So yes, this could be the dumbest, craziest idea ever. But the opposite could also be true. So instead of sitting back and accepting that it's too dumb or difficult or impossible, I'm going to pray and pursue this until I've exhausted all possibilities of this happening. Because why not try living in a loft in a small town in Tennessee where I could run my own business and put all my skills and talents into a lifelong project? ... Yeah, I think I'm kinda crazy too.