Another year, another city. What did I do this summer? Well, in addition to having an absolutely wonderful summer with friends and family in Atlanta, and finally beginning to settle in and feel like I was at home, we also moved to Chicago. In the middle of August, we found out that Gordon would be starting a new job on September 7th. And off we went into the middle of the country, with only enough time to hire movers and wave goodbye on our way out of town. No processing. No emotional impact. Safer that way. So I’m waiting patiently for it to hit me. Wondering if it will, when it will. Some days I think it doesn’t matter one iota where I live, and some days I know for certain that I will miss people and moments so much it hurts once I finally face the fact that I’m in a new city. For now it feels like vacation. I’m still living out of a suitcase, figuring out where things go, no idea where the closest dry cleaner is.
And, in many ways, even when on vacation, my days are always the same. They’re days of blankies and bandaids, spiderman and pots-and-pans-orchestras: filled with the magic of childhood and littered with the debris that accompanies it. We spend our days at the playgrounds or going for walks around the neighborhood. My life is constant in that it still revolves around the two little blond heads in my double stroller.
For now, I’m content. And whether that is me not having processed anything, or me just taking one little step at a time—waiting patiently for nap times and bed times and first glasses of wine (hooray for 5 o’clock!)—here in Chicago just as I did in Atlanta and in San Francisco before that, I am glad that I am still standing, still smiling, still just me. Gordon’s words are coming back to me again: “wherever you go, there you are.”
Here I am.
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