Weathervane

My friend Lynda says she can’t imagine how anyone living in California can ever be sad. What, with the sunshine and all? 

While no one plans on being sad, low emotions do happen in the rain and the sun.  As we plan our move back to California, I frequently reflect on Lynda’s assumption. I have even made myself a promise to call her on sunny and rainy days. Let her be the judge.

Much like the Irish weather, one day my marriage is bright with satisfying skies; then on other days, it’s covered with clouds, or worse, tense with raging storms overhead. Since we’ve put our livelihood under a microscope this time last year-- DH headed overseas and wee girls stayed in Ireland to tend to ourselves—there has been less lightning and thunder and more layers of fog.  Finally, we have reached a life decision coated in thought and worry and overcast with the weight of unknowing, yet the skies are filled with anticipation and excitement.

It has taken some time for me to get from the last post to this new forecast. At this point of my life, my marriage is synonymous with family. Despite what I’m saying here and now, couples need definition outside of their children. And so, I reread the DeJa Vu post. I can only attempt to defend myself.

I picked him. And I’m not ready to unpick anything.

So here we go uprooting and planting new seeds, as a family. Happily, the soil in California is filled nutrients and warmth.  Among the unknowns of this renewed territory are family and friends full of support.  I can’t wait.

And if Lynda is any bit right about the sunshine,  we’ll be ok.