This is the year, a dozen years ago, when we could have escaped.
It is so easy to see now, in hindsight, that this was the year to make our getaway, before our children started school, before the market crashed, before you planted crape myrtles and lilies and the Japanese maple.
We could have escaped the falling trees and car accident and disappointments that would leave us hanging. The tedium of working and living and juggling it all in a place we didn’t choose.
This was the year we could have left, but didn’t.
Our chance was about 26 years ago, but we have never stopped thinking about it.
Love your writing and your idea about doing this.
Your next chance will be when Astrid graduates from college. You can sell the money pit, get a small condo somewhere you want to be and pack up and move. Don’t wait too late or you will be too old, physically and mentally. I didn’t believe it would happen to me, but it’s true. However, maybe after this next move, which I wish we had made 10 years ago, it will be easier….
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But do you wish in the end you’d moved? To where?
We are coming up to one of those times, and I think, stay, stay, stay.
Maybe we just think we could have left but it mostly would have followed us anyway in some way, so really, leaving whatever is the heaviest behind isn’t ever really a choice anyway…
[…] sitting there, all in one sitting, I wrote a series of 21 posts (20, 19, 18, 17, 16, 15, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Belonging) about our utterly ordinary marriage, a sort of […]
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