"Get Out"

Finally. Moving week is here. Stacey seems to be having a tougher time than I letting go of our current surroundings – ready though she is to move on. Apparently, she actually enjoyed her job and likes the people she works with. Sheesh. I warned her about getting attached to people.

What, exactly, am I leaving behind? The wilderness? A 20-minute drive to anywhere? Zero friends to speak of? Hmmm. This should be one of the easiest moves in my life.

Had anyone told me that it would be six years (and counting) before my life would see any semblance of stability again when I initially moved from my longtime home in the suburbs of Atlanta in 2000 to follow Stacey to grad school like a lost puppy dog, I probably would have balked at the prospect of being adrift for so long.

Had I not made the leap, I probably wouldn't have married Stacey, finally graduated from college with a general idea of what to do for a living, had Connor and weaseled my way into staying at home with him all day.

That one simple decision changed my life forever in ways unmeasurable. At the time, it just seemed like no big deal. Just something to do, I thought.

On the flip side, though, we are pretty broke, we have no long-term plans beyond basic conceptual-type ideas, and we have no clue where we'll be this time next year, all of which lend a general feeling of unease to our otherwise happy life.

I think a former co-worker of mine summed up my feelings perfectly.

"You know what they say," she said confidently. "Hindsight is 50/50."