This journey to Sydney has been so much more than a physical one. In fact, I’m beginning to think that’s the easy part as we get closer to the date. Sorting, packing, discarding, storing—it’s easy enough to tackle. What’s not is the emotional component that lingers in the shadows—the ghosts. The ones attached to books given to me from those who have passed away or to the dusty handmade ceramic trinkets my daughter crafted when she was so little she never wanted to leave my side. Now, she’s so tall, I barely have to bend down to hug her. These items have history.
Time is fleeting.
I know I don’t need to tell you that. What I question, though, is why we’ve chosen to leave. I keep thinking how odd it is to leave a place where I’m anything but unhappy.
It’s quite the opposite, in fact.
I truly can’t think of a time when I’ve ever been happier; Boulder just works for us. I love this little granola town and all its hippie quirks.
To move is to unearth.
“You’re never really ready to have a baby. You just do it,” I remember hearing from family.
I wonder if Sydney will be anything like my journey into motherhood. One that started off with a vision of it being one way until the baby arrived and all that flew out the window (along with my sanity). Parenthood is not what I pictured at all. It’s better, and worse. Messier. And smellier. And, at times, more exhausting than I’d ever fathomed.
But it’s better. It’s so much better than I could have dreamed of.
I suppose we don’t say YES to big adventures only when things aren’t going our way. We say YES when we’re in the moment and it feels right.
This feels right. Ghosts unearthed and all.
At least, I think I am.