Saturday, January 14, 2012

to begin...

A few months ago we lived in a city that I love, planning to move to another city I love. I was looking at apartments in Brooklyn (I was also looking at apartments in Manhattan but who are we kidding?) when my husband called to say we were not moving to NY after all. We were, in fact, moving to a state and a small town and a climate that were as far away from my plans as I could imagine. I'll be honest, I didn't handle that news very well. I wanted urban, I wanted seasons, I wanted what I wanted. I wanted my husband to tell me we could stay where we were, where I had put down roots, had friends I dearly loved and a view of the city skyline that took my breath away. The nature of his job means we move every so often but the nature of his wife is to treat every home as if we will grow old there. I let my guard down, I let the place "in" only to feel the inevitable dismay when it's time to move on. But move on we did. To this small town and this house and the little bit of land it sits on. Now I watch my children chase each other in the yard and I walk through this house and make plans for a garden and I realize I've done it again. I stopped fighting the fact that change is inevitable and when I turned around...I was home.

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