After six years in NYC we are heading west, to Colorado. We’ll soon be within a day’s drive of our families. We’ll have a car, a washer & dryer, 3 whole bedrooms (with a closet in each room! My sister reminded me that’s normal, and I reminded her, “Not for me!”), and 2 whole bathrooms. No more bikes parked in bedrooms, moving the dinner table in and out of the corner in order to sit the whole family at once, or hauling laundry down the stairs, the street, in any kind of weather to spend $20 a week at the laundromat, only to have to haul it back up and then do it again the next week. No more dodging dog poop on the sidewalks or running on sticky summer mornings past blocks of stinky trash waiting for pick-up. No more neighbors above my head dancing to Latin hip hop and partying until 3 a.m., no more crowded train rides with tired kids, or unpacking a loaded stroller to fold it and get on the bus, somehow balancing the child and everything else that was in it with only two hands. No more buying only the amount of groceries I can carry and having the bags cut into my hands as my arms burn while I make my way home. Hooray!
But also, no more playdates at the park with dear friends, running in sprinklers, traveling to free city pools, no more mom chats on the bus, or playgroups and pre-school co-ops with people who have known my kids since they were born, no more babysitting swaps and school pick-ups with surrogate family, no more gourmet baking ingredients at my fingertips, no exploring central park, or authentic Thai, hand-made chocolate, world-class donuts, no more affordable public transit that can get me all over (no insurance or gas costs), no more free summer concerts, Shakespeare in the Park, swing dancing under the stars in front of the Metropolitan Opera House, cheap Broadway tickets. No more world-class museums, incredible zoos where we get in almost free on pay-what-you-wish days, or ward musical numbers by amazing professional musicians. No more runs across the George Washington Bridge to see the changing leaves of New Jersey Palisades in fall, no more magnolia and dogwood trees bursting into color at the Botanical garden in spring. No more frequent craziness that connects me to humanity every single day! Like the Laundromat owner who comes and chats politics when I’m waiting to cross the street at the corner in front of her store. Or the deli guy who gives my kids free candy and knows just how to make my turkey provolone sandwich while he updates me about the state of safety in the neighborhood. Or the bird man who puts out forty pounds of bird seed on our block every day for the pigeons, to, ummm what did he say it was for again? Oh yeah, to save us from some sort of government conspiracy. No more New York. Boo!
I am excited for the change and yet so sad! I don’t know quite how to get through this time, all the conflicting emotions. I am trying to relish the weeks we have left, but it feels like ripping the band-aid off slowly. You just feel a little bit of pain at a time instead of all at once. It’s still there though. People are great. They’re trying to help and be encouraging. They say, “It’ll be great; you’ll be fine; think of this or that and how nice that will be, etc., etc.” And I do think what they’re saying is probably true. And I fully anticipate getting through this and loving our new home and the friends I’ve yet to meet. But there have been days over the past few weeks when it literally feels like bits of my heart are getting squished, twisted, ripped, and there is actual physical pain in my chest. Thoughts of a washer and dryer just can’t make it go away.
And so I have been trying to turn to my Father in Heaven more. Seeking the comfort of His spirit. Reading the Book of Mormon. That’s helping . . .but it’s not instant. I have to travel through this change and feel what I will feel and be grateful that I have a Father in Heaven to turn to.
Any other ideas that will help? How have you weathered change successfully?