In early June my husband got a new job. A week later he was gone, and I was left to make this move happen for our family of six. My blog went by the wayside, and so did most everything else at that point. This is my first post since May… it feels good to be writing again. Thanks for your patience while waiting for me to return!
Walked RIGHT into the flippin’ wall again. ForTheLoveOfGod. If I do that ONE more time…
Just missed the last step on the way down here, too. About broke my ankle. In my fragile state, the tears are immediately at my eyes.
It’s pitch black and I’m feeling my way to the basement because my husband is fast asleep, and he forgot to leave a light on for me. And I’m too nice to turn a light on that might wake him up.
Okay, not really. I kind of want him to wake up so he is aware of the time I’m finally going to bed while he’s dreaming his sweet dreams. But I don’t want to risk waking the kids – especially my two-year-old. That would be disaster.
So here I am, fumbling my way to our makeshift room in the basement (while our bedroom awaits new floors). I have no sense of where I am – this house is so foreign to me.
I miss our old house. I miss the familiarity – how, without thinking, I could navigate through it in the dark like nobody’s business. And it was dark a lot for me. That stretch of time after the kids were in bed was always my most productive period of the day. I could finally focus without interruption.
I guess that is still a constant here – those late nights. But now I spend my evenings unpacking boxes and staring blankly into rooms – trying to figure out how in the world I’m going to make this house feel like home.
I poured my heart into the last one… started married life there with my brand new husband… brought all my babies home there… completely renovated what we thought would be our “forever” house. Nope – not forever, I guess.
I know this place will feel like home someday, too – at least that’s what everyone tells me – but it doesn’t yet. Not even kind of. I’m in somebody’s house, using somebody’s shower, and washing dishes in somebody’s sink. I’m running into walls, missing steps, and swearing under my breath.
Moving sucks. Really, it does. Everything about it is overwhelming and exhausting.
And then there are the goodbyes. Boy, are those awful. We’re talking rip-your-heart-out, gut-wrenching, sobbing-like-nobody’s-business awful.
But you know what? If the goodbyes were easy, that would mean we weren’t happy. So I’m glad the goodbyes stung. That shows me how amazing this stop in life was for all of us.
And now here we are.
I keep telling my kids that life is a journey, not a destination. Change is good. We will grow closer as a family. We’ll meet new people that will become friends for life.
But sometimes that advice just feels like words.
Sometimes I sink to the floor in the bathroom and cry.
I miss my house. I miss my friends. I miss my routine. I miss my life.
But I try to keep those feelings to myself.
Because I am the mother. And I am the wife.
“We can be happy anywhere… as long as we’re together.”
That’s what I kept telling him. So he took his dream job with my support. Now I kind of want to take my support back.
I was wrong. We can’t be happy anywhere. Let’s go back.
But you know how when you first go off to college, and you don’t really fit in there yet – and then you go back home to visit, and you don’t really belong there either? The high school kids suddenly seem so young, and you feel stuck between worlds? That’s where I am now.
I remember those college days well… I was so homesick at first, and yet I knew it was time for that next chapter. I had no choice but to go forward anyway – it’s not like I could go back to high school.
I can distinctly recall the first time Boston truly did feel like home. I was flying into Logan Airport my sophomore year, and the city came into view. As I stared out the window of the plane, a calm came over me – this is where I belong now, I thought. I am home.
Looking back, those were some of the best years of my life. I never learned so much about myself and what I was capable of doing. I fell in love with that city, and I fell in love with the man who would become my husband. Just think if I had never taken that leap of faith…
It’s different this time, though. It’s not just about me anymore – I have four children now. I need to show them that life here can – and will be – great. It already is great in so many ways if we open our eyes and look for it. But just like me, I know they’re homesick, too. Perhaps they also sink to the floor sometimes and cry when no one is looking.
Moving sucks. Really, it does.
But it’s also a beautiful opportunity. It’s a chance to try new things, explore the world, meet incredible people, embrace life, and grow.
No matter how much I miss my old life, it’s time to move forward – for my husband, for my daughters, and for myself. This will be home someday, too – in every sense of the word. I do believe that. I have to believe it. Life here will be wonderful – because I will choose to make it so.
I just need some time. One day, a calm will come over me again. I will stop running into walls. I will navigate this house in the dark. I will have friends and a routine and a life here.
And I will say – THIS is where I belong.
THIS is home.
P.S. We just got a new kitchen sink. Feels more like home already. I think I’m going to be okay! :)
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