Breaking Away

Without fail, the two questions we get when we say we are moving 2,000 miles away are first, why are we leaving and second, do we have jobs when we get there.

Usually, it’s in that order, which is so interesting to me when, in today’s culture, it seems in vogue to ask about your “why,” which is an intrinsic goal or inspiration unique to each of us. It’s kind of a buzz phrase: To find your passion, find your Why. To keep you focused, find your Why.

This entire migration story centers on that very question.

The simple reply that I give to most people is that my family lives there. But that’s not really the answer. That’s just a convenient fact and where the story starts. It’s harder for me to try to explain the more complicated answer, which is that at ages 40 and 46, we are at halftime and life is currently winning.

We really had to think about our goal for the second half and what makes us happy? Being together. Outdoor recreation. Having a strong CrossFit community. Traveling. Family time. We settled on the Puget Sound because that’s where home is to me. And my husband has been willing wanting to make my home his home. We found that our Why is a better quality of life for us, and more opportunities for our kids, while still staying woven into the strong fabric of family.

I read somewhere that You Only Live Once is a wrong motivation because really, you don’t live once. You die once. You live every day until that time comes. And we aren’t living. We merely exist here in Houston. We wake up, go to work, pay the bills, drive the kids to practice, drive to CrossFit, drive home, eat, and sleep. And repeat five days in a row. Every week. For years. Baaaa. Baaaaa.

I don’t have any illusions that daily life will change much. There are still bills and extracurriculars and errands and responsibilities. But the climate is more livable. Seasons exist. Everything is in close proximity, whether the grocery store or a weekend trip to the mountains. There’s hiking, swimming, boating, skiing, camping, road trips, scenery, and culture. Houston has become an isolation cell of flat land with hot, humid weather and concrete freeways for 100 miles in every direction. Pick a freeway and keep on going before you hit … more flat land. With hot, dry weather. There is nothing enjoyable about staying here.

My journey doesn’t have to make sense to anyone but me. And while this is still an intimidating and stressful undertaking, there is freedom in making my own rules. I embrace the challenge.

I have been given an incredible gift of a whole, healthy life. So in between the mortgage and sick days and flat tires and rain and parenting, I intend to honor that gift daily.

And to end the suspense: No, we do not currently have jobs waiting. That’s part of the adventure. *shrug* We’ll spin the wheel when we get up there and find out the prize.