I'll never forget what it was like moving to Connecticut. It was the first time that I had moved outside of my home state of Oregon. I was leaving my family, my friends, and heading to a new life with my fiance. The fact that we had only known each other for, maybe, 5 months wasn't important. I was 25 and my fiance - now husband - was 29, so we weren't some "crazy-kids". However, it can seem pretty crazy when you put it in print. (And if our girls do the same thing I would probably lose my cool! Thus concludes another entry to the journal of "Ann Makes No Sense".)
Any hoo....
Rob and I had shipped some things ahead and decided to travel with some of our belongings by car. By a tiny, yellow 1979 Toyota Celica Hatchback car that had been dubbed Barney. The name was destined by a chance drive-by, or more a "drive-over" of a little plastic Barney Rubble doll. Rob saw something in the road one day, drove over it, backed up - driving over it again - then picked it up. Barney Rubble remained the cars dashboard beckon the rest of the cars days.
Our cross-county move to Connecticut was seen by most as a test of our relationship. "Will they survive the trip???" I get it. It does sound crazy. Like I said, if our girls do the same thing I really don't know how I'll take it. But it never felt odd, or wrong. It felt just right. Still does. But next time, we'll call Connecticut Movers so we can have a view from the back window. It's funny how highway patrol can "sneak" up on you. Oh, have I not told that part of the story? Next time :->
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I remember clearly the three day drive from Portland to St. Louis. I was thirteen and I swear somebody in the family was going to die a slow, painful death. Moving is never easy. Roadtrips are never sunshine and light. Together you have a recipe for Hell.
ReplyDeleteFunny though, at 21 I packed up and followed my shiny new husband to Florida. It felt like an adventure, like moving into a college dorm, nothing like that hellish move 8 years earlier.