Time is ticking away… We leave Las Vegas in less than five weeks. FIVE WEEKS. It is getting down to the wire and I am so extremely excited, but still nervous about how everything will come together. Aside from my anxiety over the never ending list of things we have to finish doing and paying for, I’m feeling a little anxious about my inner peace once we move back.
See, before we moved to Las Vegas, I never felt like Michigan was it for me. I always wanted to live somewhere else, even temporarily. Mike and I discussed Florida for a little while, and talked about other places we may want to move to. After a vacation to Las Vegas, Mike fell in love and thought I would love it too. We came out together and I did love it. We decided to take the plunge. But Vegas was never supposed to be it either. We originally had a five year plan. We’d live here and then move to San Diego, the dream land of beaches and beautiful weather (and fairies and magic.) Five years into our Las Vegas experience, we had just had Truman and had long since become aware of the fact that while San Diego is a gorgeous city filled with sunshine and rainbows, (and unicorns and pixies!) it is also insanely expensive and impossible on our budget. California was never going to be my home. We were Las Vegans for good. Or were we?
We went through a little Arizona phase. Friends of ours had just moved to Phoenix and we kind of liked it there. It was cheaper living than Vegas, still had good weather but also had sports teams! We could take Truman to baseball games and basketball games and… and then we realized that it was hard enough to get people to visit us in Vegas and it is LAS VEGAS for God’s sake. There is a ton of fun shit to do here. If we moved to Phoenix, we’d never see anyone ever again. Plus, if you can even imagine this, it is hotter in Phoenix than it is in Vegas. After pregnancy through the summer and hauling around an infant in 115 degree heat, I was all set on the heat factor. Arizona was not our home. So, back to being Las Vegans for life. We started talking about buying a house.
But it still never really settled in my heart with total and complete finality that I would live in Las Vegas for the rest of my life. The idea of buying a house here gave me this alarming tingle at the base of my spine. It set off a red warning light flashing in my mind’s eye, a quiet voice whispering, “Don’t do it! You are not home. This isn’t your home.”
May of last year we flew to Michigan to attend my sister’s wedding in Ohio. We flew into Detroit and then drove with my parents to Cleveland. I was pregnant with Grant, Truman was almost walking but not quite and travelling was harder than it had ever been. We had a great time and unlike most visits home, we weren’t running for the airport begging to get away from Michigan. We were actually a little sad to leave. A couple of weeks after we came home, we hesitantly brought up the notion of moving back to the mid-west. Mike said he was kind of, maybe, a little bit thinking about it and I had been too. We talked it out. A lot. We decided that with two kids it was only going to get harder to travel for visits. Four airline tickets would be really expensive. We would have to rent a car every time. Who could comfortably accommodate us all for more than a night or two? Plus, we already did the amazing race the entire time we went home, racing from house to house, trying to please everyone and stretching ourselves very thin. How unfair and not fun for our kids! It made sense to be close to family, well at least closer to the majority of the family, and have our children grow up knowing them. We want them to be comfortable with our loved ones, not feel like they are strangers. It was settled. We were moving back. We knew it would take at least a year, and it has.
So now, five weeks away from making this huge move, I have to wonder… is this it for us? Am I finally going home? Will I feel it in my heart and soul this time? Has my wanderlust been satisfied? Or will I unpack our belongings and set up a house but still feel a little bit… homeless? Most importantly, if I don’t feel at home in Michigan… where will I ever feel it? I know that as long as my husband and sons are with me I can live anywhere, but I don’t want to be one of those people who drags her children all around the country year after year because she can never find true peace within herself. I also don’t want to feel disconnected from or unhappy with where I live.
I want roots, I want stability, I want to buy a home and raise my babies there and mark their heights on the door jam of the pantry. I want them to come back for summers in their college years, and have them introduce me to their future wives around my dining room table. I want them to show their kids their old bedrooms and the place in the yard they buried their pet turtle. I want for my kids, what my parents have made for me. The only place I’ve truly always felt “home” is my childhood home. I just want that feeling in my own space and in my own skin. I want peace of mind, and a calm spirit. I want to know without a doubt that we made the right decision. I really hope I’m going to find all of that in five weeks. If I don’t… I just don’t know where to look next.