Today we celebrate ONE year in Maryland. One year ago today I was up at the crack of
dawn, to continue packing the unfathomable amount of rubbish we were going to
load into a dreadfully undersized moving truck with only a handful of people to
help. This moving trip turned out to be
a lot more stressful than the previous one – where I actually had twice the
number of hands on deck and had to pluck every last one of my belongings off
the lawn and back deck of my former marital home (the ex thought it was nice of him and his buddies to “get a
head start” on getting my stuff out of the house).
One year ago today, Ava and I were bringing up the rear of
our cavalcade from Pennsylvania to Maryland, me with tears in my eyes and
Oliver with bile in his little kitty throat.
It’s no secret I never thought I’d move to Maryland. It had been a subject of much debate during
the divorce proceedings and the custody battle that followed. Todd owned a house, a big house, in a good
school district not too far from our present home, and he felt the move was an
economically sound decision. I flat-out
said no thank you. Aint gonna
happen. The ex had a much more colorful,
and slightly more vehement, response.
As time went by, however, after thousands of miles of
back-and-forth driving, numerous conjugal overnights at the in-laws, dwindling
cashflow, a delinquent tenant, and failed attempts to sell the house, it became
indisputably clear that we had one option left (well, there was always
foreclosure and bankruptcy – but, really, that is not really an option). Believe me – I was adamantly opposed to
moving south. I’m not a big fan of
change – as I think most people are – so it doesn’t seem surprising that I
wanted no parts of leaving my little town and moving away from everything
familiar. I sold the idea to the kids as
being a good move for all of us, and all the reasons why, but inside I was
crying and fighting against the inevitable.
One year ago I was watching my new neighbor and her son carrying
things in, unpacking my kitchen boxes and putting everything away in such a
thoughtful way I’m still not sure I have adequately thanked her. One year ago, I didn’t meet eyes with my
husband once before midnight. One year
ago I was still fighting that internal battle of “no, I don’t want this.” One year ago, on day 2, my mom brought us our
2 dogs to finally reside with us. The stress of the move had yet to wear off, I
was still tied up in knots over the kids’ first day of school, and the house
was still a mess. I was so not ready for
the dogs, who were smelly, and anxious, and … in heat.
Fast forward one year.
We are settled into Todd’s house – our
home – the kids have been in their
new schools over a year now, and it is as though this is where we have always
been. This school year we started on the
first day like everyone else, and everything is decidedly familiar and there
are no more butterflies. We know what
time the bus comes, and we know our way around school, and we know where to
find our friends. I still feel disconnected
to the schools. It’s different here –
where I really don’t have the camaraderie of my Mom’s Club friends like I once
did. I attended the elementary school
Open House last week and, as I walked down the hall to Ava’s new homeroom, I
found myself missing my Open House partner-in-crime, Joyce. I miss giggling with her over the faculty
presentation and hanging out in the school afterward til they shut the lights off
as an invitation for us to leave.
I thought it would be hard, going back to the old town –
since the ex still lives there and we must bring the kids up to him every
week. I thought the kids would have a
hard time. Instead, I have found I miss
it less and less, until it now no longer feels like home. Home is here.
And for the kids, home is where I am.
Serendipitously, I read a quote this morning that someone sent me – that
home is not a place, but where your love is. (I’m sure this isn’t an exact
quote, so hopefully I didn’t skewer its meaning too much.)
Meanwhile, all the things that seemed such daunting tasks,
like finding new doctors, and places to shop, and activities to jump into have
melted away. My son can walk safely to
his bus stop, my daughter can ride her bike up and down our cul-d-sac, the
occasional kid drops by to play, the dogs can run the backyard without
supervision, and the neighbors are friendly and accessible. We were invited to
a neighborhood Christmas party and, while I’ve never been a fan of inserting
myself into parties where I know no one, I found myself so comfortable by the grace and
warmth of our hosts. Ava is playing
field hockey this fall and has decided to take up the clarinet, and Owen is
anticipating a jump into basketball this winter. Everything seems to have
fallen into place.
One year later, I still have unpacked boxes behind the couch
in the living room. I’m still searching
for that “x-y-z” that I know we have somewhere.
Omg – where’s my Prince movie poster? I
finally found it about a month ago. Other
things continue to turn up, while others go missing in this enormous space we
four occupy now. We have recently begun
more improvements, like painting the rec room a new, warmer color, and added an
area rug. My office is almost finished, just in time for me to
find a job, as I have very nearly finished the course I was taking for what
seemed like 14 years. And, after 8 months of procrastination, I finally got my
Maryland driver’s license. I am
officially a resident of somewhere other than PA – even when I lived in New
York I never changed my license.
Money is still tight, as it is for everyone, but we are
managing much better from this vantage point.
I no longer feel like an intruder in a state I never wanted to live in;
I feel comfortable, and at home. What once seemed like an implausible,
impossible change – what everyone close to us said was going to be the best
thing to happen to us (insert Tara’s eye roll here) – is a waking reality each
morning when I open my eyes to see my first love by my side, and the most
stunning sunrises off my back deck that seemed to have jumped from the pages of
a magazine. On a recent, solitary drive
north to pick up the kids, I realized that I no longer feel the pangs of change
when I reenter my old neighborhood. I no
longer feel like I’m missing something.
I realized that going home was something wonderful, and that home was
somewhere I once felt wasn’t. And I realized that everyone was right.
