Today is a special day. Two years ago this day we moved into our current home! We now live about five miles out—and about 900 feet up—of our little town. At the time we moved, I had my sights on moving more like 90 miles from town. Since where we live is just a tiny neighborhood off the beaten path and no one happens by here on accident, it was a workable compromise.
This house has been a true home to us that has offered a time of incubation, healing and renewal. I came here pretty lost and broken. As I look back, I marvel at the changes that have come into our lives since we first arrived.
But the plan was that we would make that big move when the lease was up seven months from our move-in date. So, to be celebrating our two year anniversary here is a bit surprising.
As I ponder things, I realize that maybe I shouldn’t be too surprised that we are still here. My husband is a roots man. When I was a kid living with my dad, we moved all the time. After my parents divorced, we achieved more stability and moved just six times from the time I was 8 to 22. When Brian and I got together, our first years mirrored my time with my dad; moving five times in less than five years. I think that was harder on my husband than it was for me. In his life, BC (before Cindy), he could count on one hand the number of moves in his whole life! Wild! Or not.
We soon settled down and by the time we were in the same place for seven years, I was starting to go a little nuts. While I can blame the economy, I can’t say that we would have moved even if money’d been falling from the sky. My darling is a roots man.
We lost our home because of that economy after living there for 11 years. My daughter and husband both got teary eyed each time we went to the old place to clean. Not me; I felt that we were overdue and I was happy to move forward. Brian actually accused me of not being sentimental, but that’s a digressive rabbit trail I’ll skip.
So here we are. Two years. Each July, when our lease is up, I anticipate a move—either in town or out. For 2014, I’m embarrassed to make my normal nomadic noises. I might become a running joke as we pass year after year in our hidden paradise.