Giving Up A Good Thing

I’m the first to admit that I’m kind of a Pollyanna when it comes to our new Adirondack life. Kind of, you ask? Ok, fine, the rose-colored glasses are just about welded to my face.

But that’s not to say that I don’t have occasional thoughts – you know, those thoughts. Anxiety-inducing “what if” thoughts.

What if I start to get bored? What if small town life, now charming and idyllic, becomes cloying and isolating? Or more to the point, what if we unintentionally piss off a neighbor and become total outcasts, giving us no choice but to sell our house and run back to the anonymous city with our tails between our legs? Well, now, there’s a dark thought. Pollyanna who?

The farther removed I get from our old life, the harder it is to remember how we got here. I feel like I’m on an extended vacation and a return to my real life is only a week’s worth of hard-earned vacation time away.

And sometimes I even forget WHY we’re here.

Because, honestly, our life in Boston wasn’t bad. It was actually pretty darn good. We had a home that we loved, good friends, great jobs, fun little side projects to keep us busy (like this website). And lots and lots of good ethnic restaurants that delivered. We had a life that many people want. A life that people don’t just give up.

But we did. We gave up a good thing.

And let me tell you. It was hard, a process. A very slow process that began without us even knowing it. Months, years of defining our values, our wants and needs. And then long conversations about doubts and fears, hopes and dreams. Thai food or no Thai food. (You think I’m kidding, don’t you?)

During our darker moments, we may or may not have accused each other of chasing an impossible dream. Of slapping a Band-Aid on some undiagnosed, pathological unhappiness lurking in both of us that could only be unearthed and understood after a lifetime of living. Or lots and lots of therapy, whichever came first.

But we lacked the patience – for a lifetime of living or for lots and lots of therapy. And before we knew it, our life was crammed into a moving van and hurtling recklessly up the Northway.

I know the rosy tint will eventually fade. And our days will become more like life and less like vacation. When that day finally comes, when cabin fever sets in… or a neighbor comes knocking for the last time because our hypothetical dog got loose and terrorized his chickens… or when all we want to do is run back to the sophisticated, comfortable, normal life that we left behind… I’ll remember why we gave up such a good thing.

We gave up a good thing for something better. Something simple, authentic, different. And, well, we didn’t like Thai food all that much anyway.

Ok, Budget, if you say so.