At home in Brooklyn

 I haven’t written in so long perhaps because so many changes are taking place that I didn’t know where to begin.

Dan got a different job, which means we are in New York now for real. It also means we have to move out of this apartment (his other job was paying for this one and it’s way too rich for our blood).

So. Moving. Again. I should be really good at it by now- Packing up our whole house in South Carolina just two years ago, and then our apartment in TriBeCa last year. And now our sweet Dumbo home.

But, still. I run out of boxes, out of tape, out of bubble wrap and out of patience.

Waiting has been the name of the game. Since December, Dan had been actively trying to find another job. Everyday we would wait to hear back from someone. To try to figure out where we would live, what our lives would look like. Charleston, New York…we even we’re trying for LA or Miami at one point. 

Of course I prayed for beach. 

But Brooklyn it is, and I couldn’t be happier. (If I’m saying this in February than you know a miracle is taking place.)
More than beach, I prayed for a job Dan could love. And for people that could teach him, encourage him and help him grow. 
Once Dan got a job here, I started to wrap my mind around living in Brooklyn FOR REAL. Not because a company happened to pay our rent, but because WE CHOOSE BROOKLYN. Somehow there is a huge difference.

I may be putting too much on it, but I feel in this next season in OUR apartment, I will finally be settled into being a mom, a wife, a citizen, a friend. I guess what I mean is, to be content. Settled. 

I’ve been scattered for too long. Living with possessions all over the east coast, questions about who I am if I have no job and no home, being unsure, being defensive, being envious, being cold.

Then figuring out how to be a mom and a wife at the same time and maybe not in the same way my friend or neighbor is a wife and a mom and am I still OK? Am I doing it wrong? And all the while wondering where is home. 

Because home is a big word for me. Home is my domain. And I’ve been living fifteen (and eleven) stories into the sky and not feeling rooted. But saying I was because I have friends here. (And that is a HUGE something.) 

And maybe I’ll start this next phase thinking everything will be great and I’ll have an herb garden and stick to the grocery budget and the baby will nap for two hours at a time at the same time everyday…and maybe none of those things will happen.

But even if those external things don’t come true, I’m hoping that at the core of me, there will finally be a person who is content, who isn’t comparing, who doesn’t want to flee to the ocean, who is free to be at rest and at home.


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