About Moving

Right now I'm listening to Atlantic Rhythm and Blues and thinking about time, and experiences and where you go on your journey through life. 

I moved my family to a new state. I say I, not to take ownership of any part of it, but to reflect on the experience from my point of view. 

It was overwhelming. Way more so than I was expecting. 

I regretted it almost immediately. But I knew to expect that. I felt the same way when we moved to the suburbs of Long Island. I knew it would pass, and it has. 

Children are so resilient. Ava may be pushing limits a lot more than usual, and Emilio may be trying to control everything a bit more than usual, but I see how seamlessly they've adjusted. 

I miss our old routines. Because I knew them. I built them. I was good at them. And within those routines were some really really important people in our lives. 

I love our new routines. Because I have more time at home. Because I love our new space and setting up new systems and routines in it. 

I guess I'm saying I feel a little stuck in between. Letting go of what we've left and embracing what we've found. What we sought and worked for. 

And man did we work. I'm astounded at how quickly we unpacked and set up our new house. Sure there is still work to be done, but we aren't living out of boxes. 

We live in a neighborhood now. Westbury never felt like a neighborhood. It felt like houses on a street and friendly waves, but not a neighborhood. Standish Drive is a neighborhood. The families across the street have children the same ages, and they come over and play with mine. The parents are open and warm and welcoming.

And I feel like kind of an imposter. 

But I also am so happy, because I so badly wanted this for my children. For us. 

So, like I said, I'm in between. 

I'm really happy, really. This is working. We have a beautiful big house that I look forward to making ours and filling up with years of memories. 

But part of me is absolutely still standing in the entry way of our house in Westbury, wondering how everything changed so quickly, even though I know it was months of preparing and decision making and busting my ass to get here.  

My Dad loved the Atlantic Rhythm and Blues collection. He loved R&B. And I did too. It was the soundtrack of my childhood, along with the Dead, The Beatles, Elvis Costello, The West Side Story Soundtrack, The Who, Eurythmics, and man so much more. This morning something sparked me thinking about it and I found a playlist of nearly all the songs from the collection. What will Emilio and Ava remember about this time? What songs? What experiences? Listening to this I'm standing in the living room, looking at the song list on the back of the CD case. I'm choreographing a dance to "Poison Ivy" and "Charlie Brown". 

Time is so funny. It moves you so slowly, yet so quickly towards the future. And yet, hearing "I Cried a Tear" come on and knowing the 6 disc player had switched to my favorite volume (volume 4) of the collection feels like yesterday. Singing along in the kitchen as I made dinner with my Mom. 

So here we are, in a new house, a new state, new people around us and we are making those memories. The ones that will be called up in my children's brains when they hear a song, a melody or a beat. It is a lot of responsibility. Which is probably why I'm moving a little slowly in incorporating the change. 

"I cried a tear, because of you, I cried a tear, because we're through, I cried a tear, what else could I do? But cry inside for love you."