“I am SOOOOO excited for you to move to Ohio!”
It’s not a phrase you expect to hear, and yet I’ve heard it from my mom, my brother, my best friend … basically, anyone who knows my life.
It’s not Ohio, per se, that they are excited about. It’s that there is finally, actually, just maybe, perhaps a location where we could, maybe, we’ll see, put down roots.
You see, we’ve moved a lot. And, despite all of the stress, we enjoy it. We kind of have to, because it’s the life that my husband and I signed up for.
I met my husband when he was 24 in his third year of medical school in Pittsburgh. The attacks of September 11th inspired him to join the United States Air Force. He wanted to be a military neurosurgeon, so in addition to his station assignments and deployments, he also needed to finish medical school, residency and fellowships. Each of those obligations would potentially require us to move, oftentimes with little say in the destination.
We knew he would be THIRTY-EIGHT by the time he was done with his training. Oh my gosh, he would be ancient!
In the last five years, we’ve moved from Nashville to Northern California to New York City (and there was a brief stop in Mexico City, but I won’t even get into that here), and now we’re moving to Cincinnati, Ohio for his first “real” job.
And, now, here we are.
I feel cliché in saying, it’s hard to believe. And, yet, it’s hard to believe. It’s been such a long journey, with so many battles, and so many unknowns and we’ve so been looking forward to this day. A day when we knew where we may raise our kids, when we’d actually buy a house instead of renting, a day when I could finally buy a really nice washer and dryer. (Squeals-oh the joys of adulthood)
And, while I’m so excited to be here. And, so ridiculously proud of my husband. And, so incredibly excited to be settled, there’s a part of me that’s so nervous.
BECAUSE I MAY POSSIBLY LIVE IN OHIO UNTIL I DIE.
Because for us, that inconsistency, became consistent.
I’ll never forget a conversation with a very good life-long friend. I would like to truly believe she didn’t mean what she said the way it came out. But, when I was telling her, that we’d be leaving California next year to move to some unknown location for a year, and then we’d be moving somewhere else, she said to me, “When is your life going to begin?”
I was stunned. To me, this was living. Our life was one exciting adventure after another, always introducing our children to new people and new places, raising them in diverse communities.
I think what she meant was, “When are you going to plant some roots?” But while that’s the beginning of life for some people, to me, it, in some ways feels like the end. At least the end of our crazy adventure. The one we’ve been talking about since we met in 2004. And, I’ve realized it’s had some benefits.
I’ve known everywhere we’ve lived that it was temporary. If I didn’t feel like putting on makeup, Oh Well, I’ll Never See These People Again. If my son was late to school every day for a week, Oh Well, I’ll Never See These People Again. If I turned down an invitation to a I-come-to-your-house-to-buy-stuff-I-don’t-want party, Oh Well, I’ll Never See These People Again.
Now, with the possibility of us being in Cincinnati long-term, I guess it means I’ll have to maintain friendships, and remember peoples’ names, and (gasp) join the PTA? It’s like I’m finally a grown-up.
And, I’ll have a fancy washer and dryer to prove it.
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