Live Somewhere Beautiful

When I was little we moved from Granite City, Illinois to Kingwood, Texas, courtesy of Dad’s job . For my mother, this was heaven…the warmth, the open space, the friendly people with big hats…Four years later, we were again packing the moving van to head back to Granite City. Dad’s job hadn’t worked out. Tears flowed all around.

From that time on their retirement dream was to sell the house and move back to Texas. They saved every penny toward that goal. Conversations often began with “when we retire and move…”

But a funny thing happened on the way to retirement. Moving began to seem like a large chore. The conversations started beginning with “when we retire, being close to the kids…” Eventually it became unmentioned.

One night, I came into the care center my mom stayed at, covered in the latest offering of Wisconsin’s winter. She was in the lobby, sitting in her wheel chair, watching the snow and waiting for me. I’m sure I cursed as I flicked the wetness off of my scaf. Most likely I stomped my feet as much in a childish outburst over another snowfall as to get the snow off my boots.

     “I don’t know why you don’t just leave me for dead and move away from this God forsaken weather,” she said.

     “And be deprived your charming company,” I said, snapping back to my senses and kissing her on the cheek.

     “It’s the only damn thing you really want. Who said that, ‘life is wasted on the youth?’ Got that right.”

My mom passed away two years ago last July.

Today the trappings of my life are in a box, on a truck, headed to the picture in the header of this post, in my effort not to waste my youth.

That's our 15 yr. old in the picture with the truck. She's excited to go to school with people with accents.

Are you dreaming of living somewhere else? What's your plan to get there?