What about the house?

This home will always have a piece of our hearts

We have no house to sell or rent while we're gone. Not like other families, anyway. My in-laws passed away in 2020 (not pandemic related) and we've been living in their California house since then. It’s a place that holds so many memories. My in-laws were the center of the extended family (which included family friends) and hosted many gatherings over the years, so it isn’t just a house; it’s a capsule of love and a beautiful life well lived. It’s quite literally a home base.

I knew when we came back that it was only temporary. But knowing in your head and knowing in your heart are two different things. And as we settled into life here, it gave me a sense of comfort, calm, and stability that I craved -- not just because we were still in the middle of the pandemic, but also because after two years of feeling out of place in Washington, I needed community and belonging. I needed a sense of home. At some level, we all did, though I perhaps felt it most acutely.

California wasn't the immediate fix I imagined it might be, though. In fact, for the first 6+ months or so it was pretty isolating. I largely didn't re-connect with old friends -- not because I didn't want to -- but because Covid made it difficult. And the girls didn’t have a way to make friends because we couldn’t easily put them in activities, nor did we know families in our area with kids their age for outdoor playdates. (That’s one thing school definitely can facilitate.)

But as time went on, we all acclimated. I mixed my familiarity of the area with my love of running and found a niche of trail running friends that have been just the loveliest humans during this chapter of life. Chris connected with some old and newer friends. And the girls made new friends once they went back to school. It helped that everyone was reemerging from the pandemic.

These connections, plus the sun and the comfort and familiarity of the house we've been in have allowed me to live my best life in many ways. It's been a respite for my soul. And though I knew we wouldn't stay, a part of me hoped we could. California is home. My heart has felt nourished and whole here. And some of the people I love most in the world are here. How do you walk away from that?

You could argue I've already done it twice before—first when I left for college and then again when we left for Colorado. I don't want the third time to be any kind of charm. But, alas, once we will leave to worldschool, who knows where we'll end up?

And while I've done the limbo thing several times now, I won't lie: It's hard. As excited as I am about worldschooling, I'm also worried about not having a community to anchor into. And if it doesn't go well and we need to pivot, where do we come back to? We'll be the most uprooted we've ever been, with nothing to tie us anywhere. And while that's freeing in a way, it's also a lonely thought.

To be clear, heading out to worldschool now makes sense, before S starts high school, and it's a relatively easy transition from a housing perspective. Most of our possessions are still in storage; we packed them up at the end of October 2020. So we don't have to purge a house of belongings nor perfectly ready things for a renter. "All" we have to do is downsize the belongings we've accumulated over the last three years until only the essentials we'll take with us are left.

There have been multiple plans for what to do with the house after we go and they’ll get worked out in time. For now, I’m appreciating the bright and spacious kitchen, the big bathrooms—one with a deep bathtub, the large washer and dryer, the many windows and skylights, and the private backyard. I know once we go that we’ll live in much smaller spaces without the same amenities nor immediate access to the outdoors. I love listening to the birds chirping and flitting from tree to tree, and the squirrels chasing each other across branches, all under a blue sky with a temperature that's typically not too hot or cold, nor humid. I hope that as we move forward, we'll find a sense of home somewhere else in the world that holds the promise of natural beauty and community -- where we can belong and thrive.

"Time for you to go out to the places you will be from...Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end." -Closing Time, Semisonic (1998)