Hello there, friend,
Four years ago, my husband and I moved our family 1,200 miles north, back to the city where we first met. It was incredibly stressful. We were in limbo for about six weeks before the actual move, not knowing if he would have job or where we would live. All we knew was that it was time to go, so we did. It was a blurry, exciting, incredible time, and by the time we made it to our destination, the exhaustion was palpable. We were out of sorts for months.
Today I sat at the kitchen table with my husband for over an hour talking. We have no idea where we are going to live, now that our house has sold. Every time we get excited to see a house, it's already under contract and the inventory is proving to be low. So we have had lots of conversations: Should we look in a part of town we don't love? Should we buy a house that needs lots of work just because of the location? Should we rent for a while?
"This feels just like four years ago," I said. "I'm already exhausted." I told him I wanted to cry, but I was too tired. He laughed, and somehow we got up from the table. The kids came downstairs from their quiet time, and I suggested we head to the park for a hike. We threw some snacks and towels in a backpack and headed out. It was the most pleasant distraction.