Anywhere But Here

Have you ever had one of those days when the urge to just pick up, take off and start somewhere new is so overwhelming you have to read the real estate section of the Ledger just to ground yourself about the depreciating value of your house and the unlikelihood of ever selling it for profit? No? Just me? Well.  Nothing terrible has happened.  I am not lonely, sad, or feeling undervalued. I’m just daydreaming today about moving my family to Edinburgh. Walking Prince’s Street with my little, red-headed girl (yes, her hair is red-where the heck did that come from?), wearing yellow Wellies and ducking under drops to get a cuppa tea.  Wanna know why?

1.Because my living room is covered in coupon clippings from yesterdays foray.  And though I did save a whopping 31.43 at CVS on diapers, deodorant, toilet paper and razors, it was still not enough to motivate me to dedicate myself to a lifetime of paper-cuts and headaches from squinting at small print- can I double this one or no? Bleh.  I always end up buying stupid things I don’t need just because I have a coupon for it.

2.  Because my kitchen is covered in remnants of last night’s dinner, there’s a wine glass stuck with something other than wine on the stairs, I have a squished, sauteed mushroom between my toes and I accidentally drank out of my coffee cup from yesterday morning at 6 a.m. today.

3.  Because I feel like my husband and I have had a shortage of meaningful conversations since my kid was born- and none that I haven’t fallen asleep in the middle of.  And I miss him.

4.  Because my daughter is exiting a growth spurt, meaning no more four hour naps in the middle of the day and an extra pound and a half to lug up and down the stairs for me.  Which means, ” a shower by 9, dinner prepped by 4, laundry done by 3″ suddenly became: “If I don’t smell I don’t care, we can eat sandwiches again and I still have one pair of underwear I can work with”.

5.  Because Rich’s face is so sad in the mornings when he says goodbye to “his girls” to catch the bus at the bottom of our street. In the rain.  With his sad little lunch box, to go to try and help very sad people who either hate admitting they need the help or who don’t really need the help at all, preventing others who really do from getting what they need.

None of these things would change if we up and moved to Edinburgh, surely.  In fact, I’m sure things would be much worse as it’s the only place in the world that may be more expensive to live than Essex County.  I recognize the desire to pick up and leave usually means you’re exactly where you need to be-which isn’t always easy.

But for this morning, with a (fresh) cup of coffee, I’ll entertain this prolonged fantasy of my girl going off to school in an adorable, Scottish uniform with a lilting brogue while I wait at home simmering soup,baking bread, making up stories of fairies and princesses so we can act them out later when she gets home.  Where my husband could get on a bus that won’t be covered in hang-over vomit, crying babies and angry cell-phone talkers to their babymamas about child support, in a suit that won’t be wrinkled from my lack of laundering skills to go to a job where he feels happy and  like he actually makes a difference.

I give myself an hour.  Then I will commence to look outside onto the neighborhood I know we were called to and ask God for strength.  For wisdom.  For courage.

Perhaps I’ll wear my yellow Wellies all day-just to soften the blow.

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