Quick answer to the “Why?” question

At the Sertoma Butterfly Pavilion in Sioux Falls. A place of refuge on many winter days.

This is a response to everyone who wants to know why we are moving.

The last couple of months have been crazy. For a while we have known that we wanted needed to be closer to family, we thought that would be in Florida where I have lived over half my life. My husband started applying to companies in the Orlando area where my sister lives, but we knew it would be a longshot in his industry. Then we got word of some medical complications at my in-laws. Unfortunately they are in New York and getting to see them has not been easy in the last couple of years. So we waited by the phone, D calling when he could, getting word through his sisters on Facebook. Finally, we got word that D’s brother was home after complications. We realized this could happen again at any time. We needed to go see him and it needed to happen now.

Then D got  a call from a company in Philadelphia. Would we be  interested in moving there?

The Northeast is not somewhere we ever thought we would find ourselves: too cold, too grey, too crowded. However after a long, cold ass short, not-so-cold-by-local-standards winter we figured if we were going to be cold, we should at least be cold near family.

The scramble to pack and purge began, and so here I sit, surrounded by boxes, furniture paired down to bookcases, two armchairs, and our master bedroom furniture, all the other stuff has been donated or junked. Every time I have picked something up to put it in a box, I have asked myself if I really wanted loved it, if the answer was “no” or “maybe,” it never made it into the box. Even so, we have way too much stuff.

Well, I am supper tired and a hard cider is calling my name from the fridge. Tomorrow is our last day in Sioux Falls, and then it’s on to Philly!

See you from the road.

 

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Home or here we go again.

In the past ten years we have moved six times in three states and six different cities. Each move has been for a good reason. Each move has been necessary. You could say I have become an expert mover, and the thought of packing up an entire household and carting it across town, or even across the country, doesn’t even phase me.

So. Here we are again. Moving.

I’ve known this was coming for some time now and I also knew we needed to get this to happen over the summer while the kids were out of school.

Oh, where are we going? Philadelphia!

Can I just say how excited I am for this! You see from age three to age eleven (minus one year in Mexico, but we shall not speak of that) I lived in Philly, so this is like going home.

Today was the first day I started telling people, so I wanted to do this short post to let everyone know.

The Liberty Bell, cobblestone streets, a subway system that works, family less than three hours away, the Franklin Institute, camping in the Cascades, the Jersey shore…um, well maybe not that last one, but you get the idea. D and I are both excited. We’ve decided to make this move very simple, so all the furniture will be staying behind and that means all I really need to pack is the kitchen, the clothes and books….lots and lots of books.

So, now you know if you start seeing some crazy posts on Facebook and Twitter of our looooong road trip.

Go ahead and call us crazy in the comments. I know you want to.

Getting lost

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.”

— from “The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost, 1920

This quote has been used by so many as a battle cry for those who choose to forge a new path. I, however, see it as a reason to get lost.

Lost can be good. Lost can be cathartic.

I have been lost these past twelve months, and I’m OK with that.

I lost my business.

I lost my house (sold – but it wasn’t expected, so I count it here.)

I lost my community.

I lost my way.

I lost my drive.

I lost my myself in a vague grief, and it has healed me.

I lost myself to books for pleasure, something I had not done in ages.

I lost myself to looking at the world through a camera lens and chasing it’s beauty.

I lost myself to snuggling my kids and making them the complete focus of my day.

I lost myself in my kitchen: baking, mixing, experimenting, feeding the soul.

I lost myself in the gym, in the crowd. No longer the one looked to for coaching, now I was the student. All coaches should have their own coach.

I lost myself in the haze and uncertainty of a future no longer laid out in the black and white of a business plan.

In losing myself, I found myself. Who is Pili? What does she want? Where will she go? I’m still working on that last bit. I do know I am not done. I never will be. I will be back here one day, a year from now, five, twenty. Never. Done.

I have let my mind and my heart wander. I have quieted, for now, the deriding voices of guilt and blame and depression. I have found the big dreams in my heart: ride a shooting star, race the wind and win, find the end of the rainbow.