Movin' On Up

A few nights ago, Eric and I sat down to eat dinner after putting our girls to bed.  We do this every now and again, feed them when they're hungry, before Eric gets home from work, stifling our hanger hunger until 9 or so, and sit together and enjoy an overcooked, usually stale meal together.  We also usually drink adult things so WIN. Anyway, this past week, over a bowl of chicken bloated-noodle soup, we were talking, catching up over our week's events, how our life has changed so much recently, and Eric said something along the lines of, "I remember you telling me a long time ago how much you hate change."  "Interesting," I said.  "I may have said that, but I don't think I meant it.  I think my younger self thought that, but what she really hated was a lack of control.  I love change.   I love how much my life has changed over the last four years, I loved my old job and how many different things I got to see and do because the scenery was always changing."  "That makes sense," Eric said back to me, with a nod and a sip of Crop Circle Wheat.  Dang, I thought, nodding and sipping my Ale Asylum back, I love getting older and wiser. 

Torrey Pines

I kept thinking about that conversation, and I realized how hard life is when change is inflicted upon me, when I am at someone or something else's mercy.  Illness, for example, I hate. Job loss, when you have to change schools, or move out of your parent's house, or when friends you love move away.  These changes aren't the good kind because, I would submit, you have very little control over them.  That's hard.


That's why I'm thinking about my sister and brother-in-law a lot this week.  Their life is changing, and while they knew this big change was coming, it's out of their control.


Say hi, Stu and Al.

These two are so fun.  They are sporty.  They are beautiful.  Stu is easy going and mellow. ↓

Al is intense and silly. ↓





Stu is a naval officer (and a gentleman), Al a teacher, and they have lived in San Diego for 5 years which, in navy-speak, means it's time to move on.  They will be leaving San Diego in a few days for Stu's orders up in Washington state.  Based on all the Snapchats I've gotten of sunsets over the ocean and 98 degree temperatures, I'd say they are squeezing the last bits of fun out of their beach habitat before they head north, hearts heavy, as the leave behind their friends, their church, their beloved Pacific Beach.  Heck, my beloved Pacific Beach.  San Diego is amazing, which must make it so much harder to leave.

Heck, Grace's Pacific Beach, too.

We all know it takes an enormous amount of courage to enlist in our military. And while our service men and women don't get enough credit for that, it seems like the sacrifice it takes to live a military lifestyle, to be along for the military ride, is overlooked even more.  Finding a place to live, getting involved in a community, building relationships, setting down roots -- these things require courage and strength to do once in a lifetime. And then, those brave military personnel and their equally brave families soldier on to new territory, to do it again, and again, and maybe again and again.  That's brave.  That requires grit and courage.  I've been thinking about that, this week, when I left the grocery store, when I left church, I've been thinking about Stu and Al, knowing their trips to their grocery store and their church will be their last trips.  My heart feels heavy for them.  The familiarity of my grocery store is silly and trivial, but it's not, is it?

And yet, I'm interested to see what Stu and Al learn from this situation; will it take awhile for them to jump in and make friends again?  Will they guard their hearts from Washington state, knowing it will be left behind, someday soon?  Will they jump right in, believing it's better to soak it all up while it's available to them, because who knows what tomorrow holds for any of us, really?

Stu actually looks this cool all the time.

So, Stu and Al.  You have not left my heart this week. I can't imagine having to leave San Diego, I really can't.  You went from being frozen tundra dwellers to being legit beach babes and frankly, it suits you both.  I'm sure you're going to rock the crunchy granola hippy thing that the Pacific Northwest seems to require... actually, based on Alex's current hygiene habits, she won't miss a beat.  Ugh I hope you don't start making your own deodorant and feta cheese I CAN'T with that, ok Al? Just NO.  Anyway, I can't imagine having to say goodbye to the Fish Shop, to Trader Joe's down the block, to Fro Yo just next door, to the awesome park at Fanuel.  I can't imagine having to say goodbye to the little girl Alex has nannied since her arrival in San Diego, when the little girl was just a few months old, the little girl who now has a little brother, the little girl who FaceTimes with my Grace because they are friends, thanks to our visits and FaceTime...I can't imagine what that sort of goodbye feels like.  I can't imagine how my lack of control over these things would play out, if I were in this situation.  I would be a crazy, raging psychopath hopped up on coffee and then probably rum.  Stu and Al are probably playing ping pong, going for a run along the beach, and then rolling out to drink some Ballast Point microbrews with their friends, driving in their sweet convertible, top down, ocean breeze rifling Stu's hair, flowing through Al's unwashed-for-6-days tresses, straight into the sunset.



Our relationships, and the scenery on which they are played out, get into our bones and blood.  Leaving a place and the people there that you love requires you to leave a piece of yourself there too, because you know that self just cannot exist in the same way in a new place. That's scary.  And exciting.  The future holds infinite possibility...as long as we're willing to surrender a little control along the way.


So Al? Stu? We know you got this, and we know this part of your journey is hard, and exciting.  And never forget: try as you might, this sort of crazy never leaves your bones or blood. ↓

Literally, any excuse to post this one.