Saying Goodbye
I’m typing this on the first desktop computer I’ve owned since the 90’s, on a desk stocked with Uni Ball pens and my glitter collection, in my very own office with my very own door. I’ve been dreaming of this moment for months. I know it sounds crazy to want to leave perfect 70 degree California days with views of sailboats, resort pools and the sound of seals barking outside my window. But I’m learning that maybe paradise isn’t about where you are but where you have the most potential.
The weeks leading up to our departure were rough. I’ll just leave you with some emotional spittle from my journal…
Monday, July 11
The mood is TENSE. We are like hand grenades with our pins pulled—all trying not to bump into each other. Every night we end up watching something together on television, which helps distract but prolongs the inevitable: eventually all of us won’t be together anymore.
Tuesday, July 19
I held Puck on a soft blanket on my lap as she passed and I sobbed. I realized I was crying not only for the loss of our beloved cat—thanked her for watching over Parker and being a good companion—but for the loss of an era of our family: small kids, cuddling pets, familiar surroundings.
Saturday, July 23
Croissants with <insert friend name> where we sat in the car and cried over what it is like to be the grounding force in the house—the exhaustion, the fear, the panic, the need for control.
Call from <insert other friend name> upset with me for <insert issue>. I apologized for hurting her. We cried and acknowledged that we are life friends, talked about how we fight for each other and are grateful to be able to say the hard things. Cried that I’m leaving.
Tuesday, August 9
It took me sitting up in the dark, crying and examining the quote, “We blame our partners for pushing the buttons our parents installed,” to figure out why I was so goddamned miserable.
No sugar coated, lemon flavored, bullshit here: moving hurts. Even when you’re going somewhere with open doors and exciting opportunities, there is still a stretching of the heart that leaves you short of breath and aching. Not to mention the unavoidable leveling up of awareness about who you are and how you can or cannot manage. Every morning there would be “a new level of sigh” (as Brian labeled it), while we made coffee, pulled on pants and dug into another box to pack or utility company to chase down.
Oh, but the outpouring of kindness, love and generosity held us like life rafts as we tried not to drown. For weeks, friends showed up to pack boxes, baked brownies, road trip cookies and muffins, hosted meals, meditated with me in Ojai, carted our shit to Goodwill, gave gifts of their hearts, toasted to our adventures. On more than one occasion, I have experienced people who have shut me out when I decided to move. What a gift it was to have our very own coaching squad and cheering section as we let go of the side of this pool. Can you imagine how different life would be if everyone raised you up as you leapt forward, rather than tore you down?
Leaving you all in SoCal with pieces of my heart, my eternal indebtedness for welcoming our hard, candy-coated NY selves into your lives and with the promise of friendship no matter where the road leads.
Thursday, July 21
Blur of the last few days
a warm, heavy still cat on my lap
a sobbing child bent over in my arms
trying to hydrate after a night
of GF salads, tequila “specials”,
making fun of whale pants and ben wa balls
Yankee Magazine, The Preppy Handbook,
The Real Housewives of Ventura
moments of gratitude so intense
they squeeze my insides
my chest cracks open
and I float
they say I bring peace
safety
calm
all is happening too fast
lease is signed
mover assesses our belongings
we leave Aug. 18th?!?
Liesel can’t wait, Kristen can’t wait
east coast cousins can’t wait
your army cheers you in from the west coast
we live in Ventura we tell the bartender
soon we don’t get to say that anymore
I try on saying, “We live in Cambridge”
palm trees for pine trees
dusty eucalyptus for wet maples
too much change
51 another decade, another city
9 years life in a dream
births: Laura Kate, Judah, Levi
marriage: Nicole and Will, Joe and Isabella
deaths: Kim’s Dad, Kim’s Mom, Toni’s Dad, David’s Mom
a decade of life living between 65-75 degrees
armies of hummingbirds, dolphins to the horizon and loud ass seals
smoky sunsets, pink moments, elusive green flash
bioluminescence is real
floating through kelp forests
bird shit rock, stone arch and the dredge
orange blossom wind
energy vortexes, ink dark skies
sacred live oaks bathed in sunlight
kindness, shared fears
laughter, love of place.
lavender, rosemary, eucalyptus
ice plant, jade
gratitude