New Beginnings: Alabama the Beautiful

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 As I write this, I am sitting on the couch with my cat draped across my shoulders, with the window open and sunshine filtering in. It is 11:30 am on a Monday, and I don’t have anywhere to be. I am unemployed for the first time since the dark months immediately following my college graduation 7 years ago, and I’m not quite sure what to do with that.

On January 26, three men showed up and carted off 95% of my worldly belongings. On January 30, I said goodbye to my wonderful coworkers over one last round of drinks at the office. On January 31, I boarded a plane bound for Montgomery, Alabama with the other 5% of my worldly belongings. And here I sit.

Seven months ago, my husband took a job that brought him here. We loaded the car with about 50% of his worldly belongings, including 2 cats, and drove him down here over the course of two days. Then, after a week of getting him settled, I boarded a plane back to New York City.

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 I had an intoxicating Summer and Fall in New York, meeting people, sharing ideas, enjoying exhibitions and cultural events. In the dizzying pace I set for myself, things like writing fell off my to-do list, because reflection was too complicated, because I had too many thoughts and feelings and experiences to convey. And then, the cold and grey of Winter set in, and E came up to visit for two weeks over the holidays, and we rung in the new year without ever really talking about what I think we both knew to be true: I had to choose my personal life over my professional life and move to Alabama while E finished out his fellowship.

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 It was a decision I had been avoiding, because quitting my job and upending my life meant relying on someone outside myself, trusting that I would be able to figure it out at some point. It felt like I was betraying a part of myself, and my place in the sisterhood. I was paralyzed by the knowledge that I could get hurt in the process. But, hey, eventually (hopefully not for a while yet) I’ll just be dust in the ground and all my potential for hurt and for joy and for experience itself will be spent, so let’s go live somewhere where the seafood looks different from what I’m used to.

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So, I’m in Alabama full-time, with an emphasis on exploring a new place (as always) and investing in things and activities that will enable me make good choices once we’re back on the move in June 2015 (this is a new one for me). My furniture is scheduled to arrive this week, after which I’ll finish settling in and get back to writing and sharing and trudging through the backlog of REALLY AWESOME STUFF that I’ve been up to in the last seventh months. In fact, just yesterday I stumbled on an everyday object here in Montgomery that led me on a path right back to my beloved New York world’s fairs of the 20th century. The world is a strange and mysterious place. And I am, truth be told, pretty stoked to get to know a new-to-me part of it.

Sunday Night Connection

Sunday Night Connection

E and I have a burgeoning new ritual of splitting an ice cream sandwich down the middle every so often. It’s usually a nice surprise when either or both of us is feeling stressed out. And come on, a Neapolitan ice cream sandwich is basically edible heaven, am I right?

Tonight, E had to run to the corner store, and he brought home this treat. A few words, a few smiles, a few bites later, and we were absorbed in our individual Sunday night rituals again. After a hectic weekend (and before a long week), it was the perfect mini-break.