The weather. End of blog post.
But here is the stone cold fact: this winter flash froze the struggling Mainers inside of us. We decided to pull stakes back in December, but we had to wait for the ground to thaw first. So we could get our stakes. Haha. (I apologize for that poorly formulated attempt at humor.)
So we’re throwing in the insulated gloves and migrating to warmer climes. Forget the rainbow - we’re moving somewhere... where none of our neighbors owns a snowblower. My standards are low.
Okay - sarcasm aside - it IS hard for a southerner to acclimate to Maine winters. I’ve contributed a freeze-dried decade to its unscientific study, and my personal findings are: that it feels like anything ranging from stepping on a Lego to falling on my keys. For four months out of every year.
But as much as we crave warmth, the soft underbelly truth is that we’re also gutted about leaving. People know Roman, and we’re comfortable here. We love our neighbors, we love the school system, we love our house, Portland is a great town, and bonus: we’re even close to the coast.*
And perhaps that is the thing. We’re coasting.
Not to get all metaphysical on you, but time isn’t linear. Time is a matrix. And when you have a family, time is only partially your own. It feels more like a spider web: sticky and strong and supportive, but also disconcertingly fragile, inextricably interconnected and interdependent.
And with our oldest son heading off to college next year, we’re becoming unmoored. The anticipated dread of walking by Quinn’s centrally located, empty room from this summer on (forEVER-EVer-ever <-- echo effect) has spurred Jeff and I to rethink our family design, regrouping to see what sort of web we should learn to spin for just the four of us.
And then for three, and then for two.**
Because the ultimate goal of most sane parents is to become empty-nesters, and we’re on borrowed time in Autismland. If we want to leave Roman well adapted for life on Earth, we need to live lighter and dream BIGGER. The clock is ticking.
So we’re shoehorning the memories and belongings of 5 people into a 16’ Pods,*** and we’re fixing up the house - mulching up the yard, repairing walls, fixing wood rot, and painting up the lot.
I'll let you in on our plan next week. In the meantime, if you’re in the market for a snowblower or a generator (or a house), shoot me an email. *wink*
* Not that we would ever SWIM in the water here, but it’s nice to look at.
** I'll stop subtracting there, 'cause it's frankly starting to sound a bit morbid... Signed, Black Widow.
*** Pray for us.