Greetings from the Old Dominion

Moving and summer vacation do not equal increased computer time for me, so I apologize for the long lapse in posting. I've been wanting to, have several posts in mind, but I seldom have a good hour to sit and really process things. Tonight, I finally do.

We've incredibly been in Virginia for more than a month now. Moving as an adult with a child has been a totally different experience. When I was a kid, I was dragged along and didn't have to do any of the planning. I could complain and feel sad and revel in my misery until I finally made friends a few months in. When I was a young(er) adult, moving consisted of finding the cheapest rent possible, throwing some boxes in a U-haul, and taking off without much thought about the details of where I'd be living. Even when Abigail was a baby, we knew the moves were temporary and were generally familiar enough with all parts of Charlotte for the moves to be fairly uneventful.

But this time I was moving with a school-aged child and my personal baggage of moving as a school-aged child. We had to find a good neighborhood, a good school, a good commute, and a good way to assuage my guilt.

Surprisingly, having to focus on all of that made the change relatively unemotional. I left behind one or two decent friends, but most of my those I'd met had already moved on. I cried more at the thought of making Abigail leave her friends (particularly when Maddox hugged her and said "I'm really going to miss you.").

On my last morning in Rock Hill, after I dropped Abigail off for her last day of school, I went to the local bagel shop to sit with some coffee and my thoughts. As I sat, I realized that the very first day I was ever in Rock Hill, I ate lunch at that very same bagel shop, albeit in its old location. Nearly nine years in between, and what was I left with? What would stay with me from Rock Hill?

What I will likely miss most is the sense of community. The city was growing but not too far removed from it's small-town roots, so it definitely had its own identity. And I had found a place in that identity. I ran into people I knew almost everywhere I went. I was an active presence at my church, even beyond being the mom of the kid who knew all the children's sermon answers. People often asked about my magazine and were sorry it wouldn't return. I enjoyed being more than a face in the crowd. I grew up with that same sense of place in Naperville, sorely missed it in Pittsburgh, and was really enjoying it again. Especially with a child and all the festivals and parks the town offered.

Since it was a former textile town, Rock Hill didn't seem as pretentious as other places I'd lived. There were plenty of well-heeled commuters and old money, but there were even more working people who perhaps simply couldn't be as materialistic. In north Charlotte, everyone seemed so driven by labels and status. In Rock Hill, you could take advantage of the "big city amenities" without getting wrapped up in the big city egotism.

I will miss feeling like I belong in a place so many people are from, but would Rock Hill ever truly be home? Not likely. I may never have fully fit in as an educated person in a more blue-collar, conservative town. Given my transient history, I may never have a "home."

I doubt Ashburn will attain that status, though the move has been incredibly good for us so far. Ashburn has zero sense of place, zero history, but our neighborhood is amazing for this point in our lives. On our street, there are about 15 kids around Abigail's age. All those kids play with each other daily, outside and in each other's houses. All those kids parents keep an eye on all those kids, chatting with each other, swapping short-term babysitting for errands. Brad has already been golfing with one neighbor, and Abigail found several great friends before she even had a chance to be lonely. The school has a highly respected reputation, and I've even heard rave reviews of the bus driver. People are constantly walking around the many lakes in the neighborhood, waving genially to the ever-present fishermen testing their luck. On one walk this week, I passed a father fishing with his two sons, mothers walking babies, and teens and parents running as the sun set in spectacular oranges above me and children's laughter echoed from two different directions. 21st century Normal Rockwell.

We really can't believe our luck. Or rather how we've been blessed. We were out of work from October through May, managed to live off savings and paltry unemployment without taking a loan, and moved at exactly the right moment financially and personally. Even my car avoided needing major repairs until just this week. We went through an incredibly trying time while living a fairly normal life and have now landed on our feet in an even better position. There's no way you can look at that and still say life is accidental.