Moving On....

Its 2:30am. I'm sitting at the desk in a fine resort in Oakland California. I can't sleep. My husband is happily in slumber land in the bed behind me. I am gazing at an unfamiliar skyline, a beautiful show of a million lights. We aren't on vacation. We have shared a whirl-wind, frenzied weekend of house hunting in the bay area. We are moving.

David has accepted a career-changing position with a huge company. Although, weary of leaving behind a beloved life in Colorado he is a flutter with the excitement of a new future and an adventure. He is moving to a company that pursued him and will offer him welcomed new challenges. I on the other-hand feel like all I am doing is leaving behind.

I am petrified and sad. Certainly, there is a part of me that is excited to live in an amazing part of the country. I envision trips to "The City" with the boys-gobbling up sourdough bread and clam chowder on the wharf and family excursions on the cable cars. But that is a family vacation. This is no vacation. This signifies an end to a life I have spent the past eight years building.

I can and most likely will get lost in the details and logistics of such a major move. The next few weeks are going to involve so much work. We need to pack up our three story, nearly 3000 square foot house into boxes, hopefully packing only enough contents to fill our new rental home that will be ruffly half the size. This means sorting through, in my case YEARS of crap. I must admit I am a bit of a pack rat. In a recent purging frenzy I have sorted through probably 15 years of clothing, finally donating souvenir T-Shirts from London (but I am KEEPING my Billy Joel concert t-shirts, damn it!), items that are too small or too big, or skirts that are embarrassingly short (good Lord, I was a whore). I have drawers and closets and general messes of keepsakes, photos, birthday party supplies, you name it. All will need to pass the "Do-I-really-need this" test. I must get our own home in shape to be rented, and find lovely new tenants to fill our empty home. I need to find a preschool for Zachary and schedule telephone service and all of those other necessary utilities.

The details are good. The work is good. When I stop thinking of those things- I am left to think about what we are really doing, and it leaves me in a near-panic-attack state. I start to think of what I am leaving behind and the life I have built. I have had such an amazingly full life here. I have a professional network I have built up over the past eight years, I have my adored friends Shannon and Darren whom we were lucky enough to meet and share margaritas with within days of our first arrival to Denver,, I have my sister and her husband, my nephews. My nephews. Zack and Evan were suppose to grow up really knowing their cousins. Sharing barbeque's with them, and feeling as though Auntie Erica's house was a second home. Now the relationship will likely be boiled down to holiday visits and maybe later random facebook posts.

Those who I have shared the news with thus fair have been supportive. They have told me they are sad to see us go, but that I will build a new life, make new friends. This is true, but at the moment I feel like lying on the ground and throwing a full blown temper tantrum, kicking my feet and pounding my fists and crying "BUT I DON'T WANT TO!" I don't want to make new friends I have my friends. I don't want to learn a new city, I am so deeply in love with my community.

Eventually the self pity party will end. I'll deal with it. I have no other choice.