Everyone has that big move, the fantasy one where you move far away and start your new life, living happily ever after. Mine was New York. I grew up listening to my dad’s stories of New York, and I imagined myself moving far away from my little beachfront town with it’s perfect beach weather. I could see myself as a tough, cut-throat, all business New Yorker, living the fast paced life and hailing cabs in the freezing weather with my gorgeous coat on. It was going to be glorious…until I realized that I was not cut out for the big city.
My teenage heart could have burst with excitement when I visited the Big Apple at sixteen. My aunt showed me around, completely comfortable in her old stomping grounds. She held my hand, keeping me close. At first I was embarrassed, honestly mortified to be holding hands like a little girl, but after crossing a few busy streets, I was praying that she wouldn’t trust me enough to let go. I held her hand tightly, thankful I wasn’t alone.
After that trip, my fantasy life had to start over. I had to re-imagine where I would settle, because I knew that I wanted to live far away from home. I wanted to get out and see the world, while enjoying a quiet life. Naturally, I concocted Hallmark fantasies of my country living, complete with a little country twang and cowboy boots. I could see myself at the rodeo, enjoying honky tonks, and line dancing. So, I moved to Texas…but that didn’t feel like my home. (And I was terrible at the dancing.)
I visited Tennessee once and I promised myself, “one day, I will live here.” I just didn’t know when. After spending three years in Japan, living on top of a rice paddy, and three years in Northern Washington, my dream of the sweet Tennessee life manifested into something more. It became a hope and a desire. I began homesteading in Washington, and I knew deep in my soul that I wanted to live somewhere with space.
Now, as I begin to pack for my big move to Tennessee, I can’t help but feel a mixture of excitement and terror. Every move is stressful but with them come new experiences and friendships. My crazy, wild, fearless, New Yorker aunt says, “think of it as an adventure. Let go of the fear and just go with it.”
Her words play often in the back of my mind as I struggle to hush my fears, and calm my anxiety. The kids will be fine. I will be fine. Everything will be fine. And if it isn’t…we can always move.