Wes and I, like I imagine many couples do, often dream about living abroad. My favorite place to imagine living in is Paris. I can picture the quaint little bakeries I’d visit to buy baguettes every day, chasing my kids down broad, tree-lined avenues on our way to the green grocer to buy our produce. Even though my son detests the sound of the French language (and has ever since he was a baby. Weird, huh?) I think he’d pick it up in no time.
Wes, on the other hand, has professed interest in living in a bunch of different places. Uruguay, New Zealand, Ukraine (before the riots).
The thing is, though, that we’ve never lived anywhere other than our current city as a couple. He moved here when he was six, and I’ve been living here-ish for over half my life at this point. It’s a great city. There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s everything you could ever ask for in a safe family-friendly suburb.
And yet, I can’t shake the feeling that a change is on the horizon. Our lease is up in July, which means we’ll be free to move…somewhere. Wes’s job is up in the air, as is our son’s schooling for next year, and now our lease is up. Every time I pray about it, I get a feeling that I should wait. So I do.
I wait to find out what, if anything, will happen with Wes’s company. I wait to figure out where to send my son for school next year. I wait to see whether our landlord will sell our house.
The more I think about moving, the more excited I feel about the prospect. Not overseas, though. Not yet. Maybe just to a different city. Maybe even to Seattle if Wes ends up working there. Living in Seattle would be a huge difference for us, and perhaps a suitable trial run for an eventual move to a fabulous European city (if and when we happen upon buckets and buckets of disposable income).
Who knows? Certainly not me. I feel like I have no idea what’s going to happen. If ever I had a reasonable grasp of what the future would look like, it’s gone now. It’s been replaced by some hybrid mixture of dreams and apprehension. As you can imagine, it’s an invigorating, if somewhat unstable, mixture of emotions.
At the very least, if we move to Seattle you can count on at least a few posts wherein the perpetual suburbanite overreacts to normal big city things. Should be a hoot?