Hey, folks. So, I have news. In the next five weeks, my 18-year-old man-boys are moving out of the house and up to Portland, Maine and in with their older sister, we rented a bigger place for them (their sister lives in a small apartment in downtown Portland right now.) They’re taking the bulk of the furniture and household goods. And I’m moving, by myself, back to Santa Fe, New Mexico, where I lived 20 years ago and where the girls were born.
I’ve kept this quiet for multiple reasons, including my job, which it looks like will be coming with me for the time being, since we’re all full remote due to the pandemic. But deep down, also because I wasn’t sure I’d go through with such a huge change to my life. I’ve been thinking about it for years, the way I’ve been thinking about going back to Italy – a thing I’d like to do, and maybe even plan to do, at some point in the future.
COVID lockdown has been wretched for me here, even though compared to lots of people I have nothing to complain about. At the same time though, I’m surprised to discover it’s allowed me to really focus on what I want. I knew I would move when the boys graduated high school this year. As lovely a refuge as this house has been for us, it’s too expensive for one person. I’ve spent two years picturing myself in an apartment in various neighborhoods in and around Washington, DC, and … I’m just not feeling it, you know? I love Washington, but I don’t want to live here anymore. I want to go back to Santa Fe.
Unsurprisingly, one long-distance move and one cross-country move within three weeks of each other requires a lot of planning and details, and I’m deep in all of that right now, including packing up my perfume collection and getting rid of the astonishing amount of stuff in this house, including things we stored here after my dad passed away in 2015 and we figured we’ll deal with it later. Well, later is apparently now. Anything I post before mid-June is likely to be some variation on AUGHHHHH WHAT AM I DOING THIS IS HARD WHYYYYYY so I’m uh not going to post those stress-bombs. I may be posting on something interesting like the huge Brood X of the 17-year periodical cicadas, poised to emerge here at any moment like the world’s loudest, coolest horror movie. (We’re laughing about the fact that of course we wound up with all this moving during Peak Insect, but that’s the way the schedules and leases worked out.)
They are taking Fat Stanley the maltese to Maine, he’s really their dog, he’ll have a blast. I’m deeply sad that Lila isn’t going to make the move with me, my little furry talisman. We were going together. But I’m also acknowledging that how that would have worked out for her was a major concern – Santa Fe is high desert, at 7000 feet elevation, and she was old, with breathing issues and a heart condition. Losing her here earlier this month was awful, but losing her there, maybe shortly after arrival because she couldn’t hack the altitude, would have been worse.
And of course I fully expect to be posting when I’m in Santa Fe, which (fingers crossed) will be mid-June. If you have any thoughts and prayers, please send them up and out into the universe that this works. We’ve taken familial vows not to have any stress-induced rages, and I guess we’ll see how that goes. Wish me luck.