“I have an interested buyer for your home. Can he come look at your house?”
It shouldn’t have surprised me, our decision to move. We’d been discussing different opportunities for over five years. But when it actually happened, I was unprepared for the intensity of the experience and the deluge of emotion that threatened to overwhelm me. And as I traveled down the road, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to survive it in one piece.
My family had been living in a warm, close-knit, out-of-town community for years. On many occasions, my husband lamented that he missed the feeling of living in a big, vibrant city, like the place he’d grown up, and expressed his desire to move. In addition, his job was beginning to wear him down. He was working with a group of educators and disagreed strongly with some of their educational methods, which was greatly affecting his job satisfaction.
I resisted the notion of moving for years. I was happy and fulfilled where we were. I was a very involved part of the community. People valued and respected me, and I couldn’t imagine going somewhere and feeling anonymous. Our children were doing well in their respective schools. We owned a beautiful home overlooking a stunning lake.
At the same time, I understood that my husband’s unhappiness and dissatisfaction at work were affecting the family dynamic in a number of ways. I realized that at some point we might have to pick up and move.
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