I’ve started to write my story a couple times, but the problem is in knowing where to start. Starting at the beginning makes sense, but when I try to start at the beginning, the story starts being about other people and not about me. Other people deserve to tell their own stories instead of me telling my version of their story. So, instead I think I’ll start with today. It’s a rainy April Tuesday in Boston…there have been a lot of those lately. When I moved to the Northeast, I was prepared for the Winter weather – the snow, the ice, the frigid temperatures – but no one warned me about the mud. I’m getting a little tired of mud. It’s towing season again. Technically, that’s street sweeping season, but mostly that means that even more of my energy is devoted to finding a parking space. Because once you’ve paid $200 bucks for forgetting about street sweeping once, you never want to do it again. Just one of the fun things about living in the city. Over the last 5 and a half months of living in the city I’ve learned a lot about myself. One of the main things I’ve learned is that I don’t belong in the city. That’s ok though…the whole reason why I uprooted my life and moved 1100 miles away was to experience change. I wanted to learn about myself and the world around me, and so far I’ll call it a rousing success. There are so many things that I’ve taken for granted that I won’t any more.
Your first question is going to be, “why did you move 1100 miles away?” I know this because it’s everyone’s first question. OK, possibly their second question after “where are you from?” because it’s obvious that I’m not from Boston if you have heard me say more than a few words. There is no real short answer to that question. I keep trying to answer it without telling strangers at the deli counter my life story, but I haven’t really managed it yet. So far the shortest version seems to be, “I decided to move to New England, so I did”. And yet, that’s not exactly true.
I am 43 years old and I’ve lived in Middle Tennessee for 42.5 years of that. I grew up just outside of Murfreesboro, went to college there, got all my jobs there, bought and sold 3 houses within 30 miles of there, got married there, raised my step-daughter there, got divorced there and generally know the area like the back of my hand. It’s familiar, it’s comfortable, it’s safe (for a given value of safe) and it’s home…until it wasn’t any more. At some point in the last couple years, it stopped feeling like “home”. It stopped feeling comfortable. I needed change. I needed a reboot. Call it a mid-life crisis if you want, but I needed a change of scenery like you wouldn’t believe. I had spent a lot of time travelling in the previous 2 years, but it wasn’t enough. I knew that I needed more.
So, I started thinking about where I would go. And Boston popped into my mind first. You could say I picked it out of a hat and that wouldn’t be much of an exaggeration. My ex-husband and I had spent a few days in the area visiting his cousin years ago and I loved it. Honestly, I think we spent maybe 5 hours in Boston and a little less time in Salem, but it was enough to fall in love with New England. I spent several months trying to make other places work, but my heart kept coming back to Boston. And if there is one thing I’ve learned over the past few years, it’s to not ignore what my heart tells me to do. So, I did what any crazy wandering-hearted woman would do…I sold off or gave away about 2/3rd of my stuff, sold my house, quit my job, let a realtor pick out an apartment for me, packed my dog into my car and drove 18 hours or so to move sight unseen into a ground floor apartment in East Boston. In retrospect, maybe I should have been more firm with the realtor on my desires, but it got me here. I never expected this to be my permanent home and it’s been a fine home base from which to explore New England. When I decided to do this for sure, I figured if nothing else, it would be an extended exploratory vacation to a part of the country that I had spent little time in. If I liked it here, I would stay, or not…if I decided to go somewhere else. And I knew that if I hated it, I could always go back home to the Southeast. Moving doesn’t have to be a permanent decision.
Well, I’ve been here just a little shy of 6 months and in spite of the occasional bout of loneliness, I’m glad to be here. I love New England. It’s full of rich history. Like, seriously, you can’t go anywhere without accidentally stumbling on someplace of note. The land is beautiful. The people are utterly delightful here. They say what they mean and they mean what they say, something there is a shortage of in the world. And now I’m packing for another move…and who knows what kind of adventures. One thing I’m sure of is that it’s going to be awesome. Because I’ll make it so.
