This was my view out the kitchen window the other morning.

This is obviously not Texas, and I’m not on vacation. This is my new normal. E and I moved to Boston, MASSACHUSETTS three weeks ago.

In order to understand how we got here, 1,951 miles away, I should rewind.

It all started with a text. I was sitting in my office at the beginning of last year when E sent me a simple text: “Boston?“.

My response went something like this: “?!?!?!?!”, but deep down I knew what he meant. His position carried some risk for a move, but I never actually thought it would happen.

We had joked around about moving before. We both agreed on where we WOULDN’T go: California, anywhere else in the South or the Midwest. We would both move to Denver in a heartbeat, or maybe the Pacific Northwest. But we never really discussed the Northeast.

I’ve always had a bit of wanderlust. When I was a young 17 year-old, applying to colleges, I had my heart set on Colorado. I loved the idea of living in a foreign place, experiencing seasons unfamiliar to Texas, and essentially “starting over”. My parents and I went to Fort Collins and Boulder. While I liked both schools, I ultimately fell in love with CU- Boulder. A few short months later, I received my acceptance letter along with my dorm and roommate assignments. Shit just got real, I thought.

As soon as the excitement faded, nervousness and anxiety took control. I convinced myself that I couldn’t be so bold; that just wasn’t me.  I couldn’t live so far away from all the things I knew and all the people I loved. Two months before school, I chickened out and committed to my “safe school”. My oldest brother’s alma mater presenting some familiarity, and less than an hour away from home. Perfect.

I’d be lying if there weren’t a million moments since I made that decision that I questioned myself; wondered if I had made the right one. While “what ifs” floated in and out of my head, I can’t say I didn’t enjoy my college experience. In fact, I loved it.

Since I missed my chance to go out-of-state for college, I decided I would make the move once I graduated. However, life took over (boyfriend, job, family) and I felt trapped. Back to Austin I went.

One Masters degree, two jobs, and a couple of relationships later, I met E.

E was different than other guys I had dated. He wasn’t a local, he had what I deemed a “Yankee accent”, and not only suffered from the same “wanderlust” as I did, but he actually ACTED on it. He took a year off after college to see the world, and he picked up and moved across the country to take a job in a city he had never even visited. He was everything I wished I could be. I thought: here is my chance to see the world and spread my wings.

A couple years in, I begged him to move to Denver. I never shook the “Colorado itch” and, since then, my sister and a few good friends had moved there. While I think I really could have convinced him to move during that time, I know now that deep down I wasn’t ready. So we bought a house in Austin instead.

Then my dad got sick. And sicker. And sicker. And we lost him. And the hurt stung so deep, and the responsibility I felt to protect my mother felt so strong, that I knew moving anywhere was out of the question. There I was, sitting in a house only a mile from where I was born and raised, having to face the reality that I would never get to experience anything new. Not the way I dreamed of, anyway.

Fast forward to that day I received the “Boston?” text. And all that had happened, and all the feelings I felt, came down to this. The biggest decision of my life; of our lives.

E and I talked and talked and talked and then talked some more. We knew it was a good opportunity and there wouldn’t be a better time in our lives to move. We decided I would research graduate schools in the area, apply to ones I liked, and see what happened.

A few visits to Boston and a couple of acceptance letters later, we decided to go for it. However, I couldn’t give him the final “OK” until we passed the biggest test thus far: telling my mom.

I remember the day so clearly. I had practiced what I would say over and over and decided I needed to have this conversation in person.I was hoping that enough time had passed since my father left us that she would be strong enough to see the opportunity this presented.

We were shoe shopping. My mom’s favorite. I was so nervous, but eventually blurted it out as casually as I could manage. I told her how we were considering it, but her opinion/feelings mattered a lot to me. I explained the progression of events and expressed my feelings of both interest and anxiety. It was her response that surprised me the most.

Although sad (and surprised), she urged me to do it. She reminded me that I had (maybe mistakenly) passed on one too many opportunities before. She talked about how I was in such a good place in my life (with my food and exercise obsessions), there would never be a better time, and that I would surely regret it forever if I didn’t. She told me how she felt similarly when she moved to Michigan (many moons ago) so my dad could attend law school. It was an amazing time in their lives, she said, and she would never take it back. She wished the same for me.

So there I had it. An opportunity for E to progress his career, me to spread my wings, and my mother’s full support. There was no turning back.

So here we are. Almost 2,000 miles away from the only “home” I’ve ever known. Learning to drive in snow, bundling up with no regard for fashion, and settling into this “new normal”.

 

Things didn’t start off the way I imagined. I had a couple of weeks before school started, so I envisioned taking the “T” into town, shopping, wandering, and learning my new city. Unfortunately, like many things it seems, life had a different plan for me. I became ill shortly after we arrived and put on bed rest. I could write a whole post on how hard, depressing and frustrating laying on a couch for two weeks is, but I’ll spare you. Let’s just say when the doctor gave me the “OK” to go to class, I’ve never been happier to sit through enthalpy, integumentary systems, and pediatric gastroenterology nutrition lectures.

 

I know life has many more surprises for me. As someone whose desire to be in control has had the best of her from time to time, I can honestly say that I look forward to this sometimes crazy, unpredictable, stressful, interesting, fun, sad, and amazing ride.

XoXo

Katie