The time has come…

Written on my plane ride from Atlanta to Seattle, to pick up the family to move to Atlanta 2 days later…

I still remember the night that JP and I were talking in bed before going to sleep. He mentioned there was a job posted at GE that sounded interesting. I could tell he was excited but proceeding cautiously—he wanted to make sure that my mindset wouldn’t poo-poo the idea before we’d even have a chance to consider it.

The job was in Atlanta. I knew we’d leave Olympia one day—it simply doesn’t make sense for either of our careers, for convenience to our families. But that knowledge does not make it any easier. I have been out here since 1999—longer than anywhere else that where I got a vote on the location. And I love it here…it’s gorgeous, it’s progressive (in some ways), and it’s familiar, comfortable.

I can hardly believe how relatively smoothly everything has gone in our relocation. John accepted the position in February, then we took a few months to get rid of stuff and get the house ready to sell. In May we put the house on the market. And waited. And wondered if the house would sell. It was very stressful. I was definitely more optimistic than JP was, which is a rare event, to be sure. We scheduled our house-hunting trip for the beginning of August, and remarked over and over how nice it would be to have an offer in hand by then. We received that offer 4 days before we flew to Atlanta.

Meanwhile, I talked to Jacob about moving to Atlanta. I think he gets it as much as he can, but I can’t help but cry for him a little since I know that he won’t be going back to ‘GB,’ his daycare, he won’t be seeing Rika or Lolo for playdates. Little Livi won’t remember Olympia at all, the place where she was born, where they both reached so many monumental milestones.

I am on my way home now. What a funny statement that is—I’ve been in our new house for the last week, transforming it from an empty shell with dingy walls to a beautifully painted house containing all our worldly possessions (technically, I did not transform the walls, but I’ve watched the painters do that!). Fresh walls and a bunch of boxes and furniture do not make a home, though. So I’m headed back to Olympia to gather my husband and my children, so that we can transform that house into our home.

I’m excited. I’m anxious. I’m overwhelmed. I’m exhausted. And I find myself wanting to cling onto the familiar, wondering if I can squeeze in a workout at the gym tomorrow, have breakfast at our favorite spot, see some friends, before we have to get on the shuttle at 2:30 in the morning to head into the unknown.

I know we will make new friends, new memories, and share many wonderful times in Atlanta. But I’ve moved enough to know that we will inevitably lose some connections here, and likely won’t return here as a family. Seattle and Olympia have been good to us—my heart is sad today.