Seasonal.
No snow, no long winters, no blizzards to contend with.
We’d been talking about places, but only in a way relating to the spectrum of weather. I like the cold in moderation, whereas Trev wants nothing to do with it. I want seasons, though.
Ended up deciding on North Carolina. Winston-Salem area, somewhere in the 150-200k price range.
It’s kinda funny. I’ve never been to either of the Carolinas. Never been farther down the east coast than DC and that was for a MTG Grand Prix.
Should be worried but I can’t help feeling excited. We’ve been cramped for years and years, passing from one stuffed situation to the next, constantly battling the sharp realities concerning the economy and where we fit into it. Middle class was comfortable once, wasn’t it?
Now, between he and I, just thankful we didn’t have kids in all these years leading up to the move. Do I want kids? Sure, sure. I don’t see why not. Do I want kids before I have a place to raise them? Definitely not. No no no. Hard pass.
Just gotta keep my head up high. When the details fall into place, we’ll be outta here. New house, new state, new jobs, new life.
Sometimes I wish I had more friends to share the good news with. Or, realistically, I’d like to have the old friends I’m not so friendly with anymore. Memories make all the good times into great times. The bad times? Nightmares. I think I’ve spent the last decade trying to forgive myself for what a twenty-two year old version of me did to her social group. Gutted from belly out.
I wonder how she’d feel about seeing herself at thirty-two? A bit thicker, a bit more wrinkled. Less vocal, more thoughtful. Still at odds with her parents, still a shitty sibling.
Still writing.
Every. Single. Day.
Still dreaming of stories.
She’d be disappointed in how we let ourselves procrastinate away for the past few years, writing other people’s books while our ideas stagnated. Freelancing? Might as well sell the blood from our veins, the backbone of our creative process, the meaty bits we picked up from a lifetime of watching people in detail until we could pretend we were one of them, too.
Sold everything else, so why not our soul? Why did we stop when we were ahead?
Still dreaming.
Still full of stories.
Cheers, Kat