still 2020

The sound of tires slowing in the driveway, followed by the most gentle stop I think I’ve ever experienced. Like the car wasn’t totally sure we belonged here. I shut down the engine, but I’m not quite ready to go in. It almost seems like everything that happened since I last pulled out of this driveway was some separate reality. Or a brief detour that led me back home. I say brief but it was more like a misdirected 3 years. I guess in the grand scheme it’s not that long.

Did I make the right choice? Was leaving here the right thing to do? Was coming back the right thing to do? I will never know. We never really find out if we made the ‘right’ decisions. So what the hell? Let’s just do this. I’m starting over. It might take some time to undo the pain of the recent years, but I’m done being trapped in the shackles of my past.

As I unload a few bags and get Duke and Reagan out of the car I feel weirdly nostalgic. It doesn’t feel like we’re here for the first time together. Opening the door and feeling that fresh paint scent. There’s just something about the first step into a new home. One of those incomparable experiences that you can’t recreate intentionally. Like the first day of school. Christmas morning. A new job. A new life.

Duke is losing his mind. He definitely remembers this place. And weirdly, I think my sweet girl does too. Maybe my memories are imprinted in her DNA. She was immediately running from room to room. She knows this is home. I postponed this move for so long because I was so worried I would see her struggle. I still am. What if she resents me from taking her from her father?

What if, what if, what if. I cannot shake this thought but I have to find a way. I spend so much of my time wondering “what if?” When I should be asking myself “so what?”  Not to make light of any hardships coming our way, but I want to be better about being more optimistic about the future and confident in my resilience. I have survived everything I’ve been through this far, so why should this be any different?

I worried what would happen today, afraid Reagan would hate it here and be absolutely miserable. I wasted all that time worrying for no reason. She’s not just enjoying it. She’s actually helping me. If I ask her to put something away, she does it. If I ask her to go sit somewhere, she does it. She seems so happy. Like she can feel my relief.

When we were kids, Saturdays were chore day. We each had our index card with that week’s chores and how much money we would earn for each one. Windows open, classic rock blaring.

I always wondered why we were all so driven to get to work as soon as we turned 16, but I recently realized how early we were taught to work for what we want.  Not so many are fortunate enough to get that lesson. My dad always said “You can do it and be miserable, or you can do it and have fun. Either way, you’re gonna do it.” I don’t remember doing chores, but I remember that. That feeling of all of us working toward a common goal. The fun in doing something simple and letting your mind be present.

I felt that way for the first time since as Reagan and I unpacked all our boxes. With the occasional dance break or snack, we made steady progress while having an absolute blast.

Jillian and TJ are a godsend. Jillian watches Reagan while I unpack and TJ hangs things. We have fun. It’s fun just to get to be with my sister.

For most of my adult life I felt like I had to hurry to reach some arbitrary goal. No one ever told me what I had to do or who I had to be. I also never really gave it much thought. I’ve always just trusted my gut. I did whatever felt right at the time. Sometimes it works out, but most of the time it doesn’t.