they say an end can be a start.

In 2007 E made a decision to practice law for a career and took the LSAT. Law school acceptances started rolling in, the first being Harvard. Then, one night, after work hanging out at his apartment in Raleigh, he asked me a question that would change my life: Will you go with me to Boston? We weren’t married or even engaged, but I knew I’d be spending the rest of my life with E so I said, without missing a beat, yes.

While he entertained a few other law schools that had accepted him, there was little doubt E was going to say no to Harvard (as one just doesn’t do). So a few months later we visited Boston (a first for me) and he pulled out all the stops to get me hooked on the city and Cambridge. Boston showed off a bit too that weekend in March, melting the last piles of snow before we landed, and treating us to a great weekend of food and drinks before capping it off with an authentic St. Patrick’s Day celebration before we boarded our plane back. It was clear where we were going for the next three years.

We rolled out of NC before the sun rose on August 5th 2008 and for the next 12+ hours up the east coast, tears streamed down my face as we left family, friends and the only home I’d known.

Almost 10 years to the day, we are set to leave Boston, making our way back down the east coast to NC where we’ll start anew again. And I imagine, as I board the plane with our two kids and watch Boston vanish from my window, I won’t have a dry eye for many hours.

It was a hard decision to make. This blog catalogues years of our flirtation with the idea to return to NC. But we never quite could make it happen. Until… all the things really. A kid here, another there, throw in a demanding job, a lack of family time, a couple of health problems and the need for help, and you got yourself a really hard argument for a complete lifestyle change.

Leaving MA feels so different than leaving NC. There’s so much more at stake. We have more friends, we have two kids, we each have a career. Typing it now, it sounds crazy that we’re even considering a drastic 180 move this time in life. But our list of hopes and goals are two-fold: more space, more quality time with each other and our kids, less time commuting and at a desk, more time with family, more hands for help. But in many ways, I feel I’m leaving my home. And I am.

When I moved up here in 2008, although my heart ached for The South and a handful of people in it, I immediately fell in love with New England. I loved the bustle, the weather (yes, even the winter), I loved Cambridge and Boston. I loved the people. This was all so different than anything I’d ever experienced and I embraced it – even when alone.

As those three years of E’s law school passed, it was clear that we weren’t done with life here. So, we made the decision to stay. The following years brought talks about The Return by way of: As soon as I’m pregnant; as soon as we have a kid; before Sam is kindergarten age; as soon as I’m pregnant with the next kid; and so on. It was something we kept pushing off because, we weren’t unhappy. So that made it hard. But, our happiness had morphed a bit. As in – what contributed to it, how long it lasted, who it involved. And so is life, I know.

I’ve found, in these last 10 years (so many things) but mostly, that I’m not sure of what “home” is. Is it where I’m from? Is it where I first lived with E? Is it where I brought my babies home? Is it where we’ve rented for five years? Is it where I long to be when I’m somewhere else? Is it where those I love the most are living? I think it’s all these things. Which make it complicated for me and makes me say my home has shifted. My home used to be one place then it became another. And now it will be different again. But I will feel it is somewhere else for sometime. I’ve been thinking, for a few years now, of this. It feels right to me to say that I have two homes. They hold very different roles. I was raised in one – NC, but grew up in another – MA.

In the last few weeks especially, I’ve fallen in love with this area all over again. Summer really showed up. And it seems the days have freakin FLOWN by, not considering my desire to make them linger, at all. Somehow, when discussing our move, I went from hearing “oh you have some time” to “ohmygod that’s so soon!”

There are these t-shirts/sweatshirts/etc. that have BOSTON printed on the front, nice and big. They are sold in bulk to tourists by vendors in Faneuil Hall, etc. and the visitors proudly wear them as they parade throughout our city. I’ve found myself longing for one. I want to wear it proudly. After all, I didn’t just come here for 48 hours. I came, I saw, I stayed. I began my family here. I made a life here. I am not a visitor; I am a Bay Stater. A New Englander.

The long goodbye has been hard. But it’s been beautiful. I’ve been able to tell Boston and Cambridge and Somerville all the things I’ve been thinking. I’ve been able to cry and laugh behind my sunglasses and earbuds as I walked through old haunts, and current hoods. I’ve been able to visit old favorites and check off bucket list items. And I’ve of course been able to say most everything I need to the people that changed my life. People that took me in, watched me struggle, watched me succeed and contributed to my happiness, health and general wellness for these past 10 years. People who are so good, so kind and so genuine, that I feel I will have a nearly impossible time finding others similar. People who I had and raised my babies with, shared my most intimate secrets with and are my forever friends.

We moved up here knowing not a soul. I was prepared to be lonely – I even welcomed the feeling a bit. Although it can be frightening, there was something fresh about it as well. In fact, amidst the loneliness, I found the comforting company of many. I’d walk, eat, ride the T and have a glass of wine, alone. And I was rarely the only one doing that. I relished in this feeling. It’s how, I realized, I preferred to be at times. But alone I did not stay for long. An amazing group of people entered my life almost immediately, thanks to one very very special woman. E and I fell instep almost seamlessly with this group who had been friends since college and there we stayed. For 10 years. Then, through work, even more fantastic individuals rolled into my life and set up shop in my heart. And because of that, I’ve forgotten how it feels. Being alone. Will it hurt? Will I be OK? Most importantly, will it go away?

What I’m feeling gearing up for this last week is so heavy. Knowing our decision to return is right, I still am experiencing great sadness. My friends, I will keep. This city, will forever be here. But this time, this time is ending. And like many changes and transitions, it warrants a level of grieving. I feel/fear a little bit, that a part of myself, of who I am, will remain here like a soul floating around, looking for my body. It will ask things like: “Where did she go?” “Will she come back?” “Why did she leave?” And I’m sure that I, in turn, when finally settled in down south, will ask the same.

It is at once the end and a beginning. And I'm here to say that not only has this southerner’s perspective changed, but so has my life. Completely. It will never be the same. And I will be forever grateful to this place and all the people that contributed to my transformation.

Boston, I love you.

Then

Now

country road.

country road

take me home,

to the place,

i belong.

- John Denver

this weekend i said goodbye to my childhood home. the home where my parents raised me. where i made and lost friendships. and love. where we celebrated birthdays and mourned deaths. where we laughed and cried. partied and rested. the place where, no matter all the things this world has thrown at me over the years - good and bad (but especially bad), i was always welcome. the place where i always belonged. 

there are many changes going on in our lives right now. big changes across the board. and i can't quite articulate all of my feelings about leaving this house specifically, because they are undoubtedly tied up in other feelings i have about these other things. i can say simply, that i'm sad to go. i'm sad this weekend was the last dad and i will plant our garden out back. i'm sad these were the last nights spent in the most quiet corner of the house which was luckily "my room" for 26 years. i'm sad to be leaving that familiar space, smell and sight of my home base. is it weird to feel like you're saying goodbye to a friend? a friend that holds all your secrets and memories - even more than you do, maybe?

i'm thankful to my parents for what they created. i'm lucky i got so much out of that spot for so long. and i'm lucky i got to show it to my babies. i'm also lucky to know there's great to come in the new home my parents have chosen that they will of course easily make so welcoming and comfortable for me/us. 

having babes of my own now, i understand how important it is to have a home that shelters them, welcomes them. i understand the importance in building a home to which they will always know and want to come back. my parents did that for me and it's my goal to do that for mine.

adios, 512.

Edie B hanging out on the back porch.

Sunroom hangs.

Sam watering the garden.

Planting tomatoes. 3 years of help!

Finished!

Kitchen sink bath thanks to Grammie.

The final, tearful goodbye. 

the final four

I feel fine anytime she's around me now. 

And she's around me now, almost all the time.

If I'm well, you can tell that she's been with me, now. 

And she's been with me now, quite a long, long, time. 

Yes and I feel fine.

Something in the Way She Moves - James Taylor

Our fourth (and final) family member, Edith Wildes Fletcher joined us on September 9th. E and I spent the better part of 2016 debating about having a second child. After 2.5 years with Sam, our lives had finally fallen into a solid routine that seemed so normal. Perhaps it was because we enjoyed Sam so much, that we didn't really feel the need for another addition. But then again, for the same reason, we thought adding to the family would be fun. A decision was made for us rather quickly, which was excellent because honestly, there was a window of time I was going to commit to for this to happen. I spent all of 2017 pregnant, managing gestational diabetes, rheumatoid arthritis and of course, a toddler. It didn't take long to dawn on me that pregnancy the second time around totally loses its luster. But, once again my body grew a healthy baby and I'm incredibly lucky for that.

I was so very nervous about many things during the almost 10 months of pregnancy. I was nervous to have a girl as mother-daughter relationships can be...complicated. Of course, they can be so amazing as well. I'd also grown accustomed to raising, playing with and talking to a boy, that I was (ironically) unsure how I'd handle that with a girl. Mostly I was nervous of "losing" Sam. He was my first. My baby. My buddy. I knew the time a newborn took. The energy, both physically and mentally. Did I have all that in me? Could I give him the same attention at a time when he surely would notice if I slacked. And while I knew that double the kids also meant double the fun, I was still wary of my ability to love another in the same manner that I did Sam - although everyone told me I could and would. Of course I was excited too. My shoulders felt lighter knowing our family would be complete. I could finally take the idea of another child off the table.

Nerves aside, I soaked up the spring and especially summer pal-ing around with my first born. Picking him up despite the size of my belly, playing rescue missions with him and showing him as much as I could of the days before I would inevitably disappear. I hugged him a little harder. Kissed him a little more. Read him a few extra books and fell asleep with him many nights. I seemed to be breaking all the rules we'd put in place over the last 3 years, in fear I'd never get these times back.

September finally arrived and the first of many transitions for Sam began - starting a new school. I was able to get him through a few days of the new preschool before I went into labor. Having everything in place at home felt weird. Almost every piece of laundry was done, dishes were washed and toys were put up. We were ready and waiting. I sped up the process with a little help from my doc, but Edie took over after that, giving me a quick (but super-intense) labor. My sister arrived in time to help me and E welcome our second, in the same hospital we'd welcomed our first, at 2am to the soundtrack of The Bee Gees' Night Fever.

Edie was born with her deep dark eyes wide open. She cried for only a second, before they placed her on my chest. She instantly looked at me, grabbed my pinky and latched with no problem. Immediately I feel so deeply in love with this little girl. The days at the hospital were easy. I knew what to expect this time around, I utilized the nursery to get some sleep and I stayed in the bed a lot more to let my body recover from birth. I found myself excited to see her rolled in for a feeding. This time, my role as mother was solidified. I knew it was my job and I found no confusion or anxiety on what that title entailed.

The next few weeks were clouded by the normal newborn...newness (for lack of a better word). My mom and dad helped me ease Edie into the world as we know it, making her comfy when we could, teaching her to sleep and keeping her well-fed. And while there were many nights that seemed to roll into the mornings, it all flew by so very fast. But she caught on to all the things so easily. I find myself back at work today, wondering how it's already done.

In 2018 I hope to find a way to better balance two kids, knowing it will always look different and most likely never be equal. I want to reconnect with Sam in his new role and new age. I want to watch Edie grow and flourish as she adapts to life and I want to continue to put my family first. Most of all, I want to take in all the blessings and successes I have right in front of me, and relish in those before they slip right by.

But I chose to dance across the stages of the world.

Everyone said I'd never learn.

And I still hear your words:

"I waited all my life for you...sweet girl."

Sweet Girl - Fleetwood Mac

waiting for the funeral

At every occasion I'll be ready for the funeral

At every occasion, once more, it's called the funeral

At every occasion, oh, I'm ready for the funeral

At every occasion, oh, one billion day funeral

 - the funeral, band of horses

for e's birthday this year i surprised him with the first two BOH albums. everything all the time was an album that was on repeat not long after we started dating. i love it from beginning to end. listening to the funeral last week as the album played struck a new chord with me. 

it's been two years since my sweet gram left. i guess there's some part of me that's waiting for that funeral i didn't get to attend. some part of me that is still practicing that goodbye, that i never got to say. 

i miss her everyday.