Blues in the Night

Confession #8: I wasn't one hundred percent sure that I was ready when I said yes to this cross-continent move.

I don't know if I could have ever been ready if given the opportunity to ponder. I lived abroad for almost sixteen years; almost half of my life. The uncomfortable truth is, even though I'm back where I started, I'm no longer from here.

So needless to say, the first day and a half was hard. The goodbyes were hurried, last minutes of packing careless and unfinished. There was no time to reflect, take in the amazing view of the Hudson River, raise a glass to a life well lived, toast friends who became family. The trip was painless, even with thirteen suitcases, the arrival smooth. But somehow it doesn't fit.

I feel very much like an accessory in my own life right now: nice to have but not essential. My husband is happy to have his family with him but continues to live the life he set up for himself in the past year. My mother, who had come to New York to help out, is back home. My daughter is high on daddy's affection and the ability to stay up until midnight without major drama from mama. Mama is singing the blues.