Global pandemic: A sign to follow a dream?
Hi friends, I'm comin' at ya with a doozy of a status update today. Ok, you know how a scary global pandemic, an immediate quarantine, below-average, freezing spring temperatures and the subsequent immersion into being a homeschooling teacher of four kids might make a person a little crazy? Well, I'm no exception to that. Crazy or not, I've decided to move. Yes, it may seem like a terribly bizarre decision, I know. Hear me out. I hate the cold. Hate is actually too delicate a word. I loathe with my entire being the cold, the wind, snow or anything below 72 degrees. I bitch about it all the time. My friends know I'm super annoying about it, too, especially at blustery cold soccer games. Odd, I know, since I grew up an hour and half south of Chicago, spent four years of college up there and then married a man from Kentucky where we lived for 20 years in the grey, gloomy weather of the Ohio River Valley. Sure, we usually get a few good months of sun and warm each summer, but it's just not enough. Matthew used to tell me how he was going to retire early and we were going to head someplace warm. Where year-round outdoor living and healthy eating and activities were the norm. I couldn't wait to be one of those old, wrinkly tan ladies in a bikini rocking those arm weights. It was on the horizon for us though and I couldn't wait. After he died almost two and a half years ago, I contemplated moving back home but realized it wasn't a decision I really wanted. Because the dream of being somewhere warm just wouldn't go away. Kentucky has been my home for so long, but deep down it will always be Matthew's home. And living it here without him, amongst everything that was him and amidst the memories that were ours —still stings and probably always will. I guess there's something about scary pandemics and nationwide travel bans, a worldwide fear for the future and my own personal health scares I've been grappling with lately that got me thinking there's not enough time in life to sit around and regret not trying to get the things you want. Things that make you happy. Things that might have been out of reach one point in life but aren't anymore. I've said this before—I write the chapters.
Y'all know I met someone over a year ago. He makes me laugh and smile. Dating him has brought something pretty cool and special into not only my life, but the lives of my kids too. And wouldn't you know it, he lives in the warmest place ever, across the damn country in Arizona. I don't know if it was all an accident or just life's way of pushing me into chasing this dream... but I'm listing my house today. And if it sells, I'm moving to Arizona. I know a global pandemic probably isn't the best time for a move, but it's the perfect time to take stock in life and figure out where you want to be and who you are happy doing it with. We don't have a ton of time down here. I don't want to waste time wondering or regretting things I never did. I'm thankful and lucky that I have the freedom to try it. A couple months ago I opened a fortune cookie that revealed the message, "YOU WILL MOVE TO A WONDERFUL NEW HOME WITHIN THE YEAR." I never pay attention to those things and usually toss them in the trash without even looking at the lucky numbers. But I kept this one. This was one foretelling I hoped would come true. No, I don't know what will happen in the long run but that's ok. I love a good hot-mess-pandemic-decision ramifications chapter. The kids and I will always have each other no matter where we are —and for me, that's enough. Ok, that ... AND the heat.
I hope the hardest decision you have ahead of you is whether to rename your blog. What an exciting time - Congratulations!ReplyDelete
lol I'm going to be lazy and probably just put my name on the blog! thanks for reading!Delete
Just moved to Arizona in January. Highly recommend it. I'm now within an hour of my grown son and future daughter-in-law. It's beautiful and I always hated mowing the lawn, so several wins.ReplyDelete
Thanks for reading along my journey!Delete