I am going to scratch something out here...come hell or high water. I will for a moment ignore the mountains of work left to do, forgive myself for my rusty writing skills and just write something already.
We are doing it. We are moving our family across this great land from our most urban of nests here in San Francisco, to the small little town of my childhood.
I can hardly believe it. The past few weeks have been a blur of packing, saying goodbye, anxiety attacks, joy, sorrow, excitement with a pinch of honest to goodness fear thrown in. I can hardly believe it. Did I say that already?
Everything feels intense and bittersweet, packing up this home of mine. A place I have lived for my entire adult life. Sifting through memories and objects and emotions. Feeling numb then feeling everything like a punch in the gut. I don't think it will truly begin to sink in until I am walking out the door with the boxes piled high around me. If then.
So much to look forward to in our future...family, nature, seasons, home. But so much to mourn from the present....friends, community, security, comfort. I think I will do this, this writing thing. Try my best to capture what is most real about this transition, share it with those who think of doing the same thing or just love us enough to care.
I am struck with how much going "home" feels at once comforting and familiar yet terrifying and unknown. But we are doing it. Leaving the city and heading out to a frontier of our own making.
I have never experienced anything as excruciating that feels as right.
