six years ago

The other morning, Facebook reminded me that six years ago we were two days into what was initially planned as a two-day road trip but quickly devolved into three days after the non-stop crying of J1 (then Baby J---and the idea of J2 was completely out of the question) from Minnesota to Phoenix via Kansas City, somewhere in Oklahoma and Santa Fe. Still fairly deep in the throes of PPD, we were leaving the snow and heading to Phoenix---where the only thing we knew awaited us was an apartment complex vaguely reminiscent of Melrose Place and my new job.

It was quite the adventure. There was the shady service that Gus hired to drive his car so we wouldn't have to drive both cars, the service that didn't actually show up and we ended up driving two car anyway. There were hundreds of CDs filled with 90s music, Hunger Games audiobooks, many many miles, two walkie-talkies, a dog and a four-month old baby. I was pumping at rest stops without bothering to use one of those covers. My boobs felt like an all you can eat buffet. There were simply no more f*cks to be given. After day one on the road it became self-evident that J1 would ride with Gus because he could reach back and hand her a bottle while driving. So it was me and Carl Rove in that Rav4 for miles and miles. Good times.

And yet we survived. That move was a turning point for us. A fresh start. It certainly wasn't easy. It wasn't always fun. But I think it sort of made us realize that together is all we needed to be. And together we could accomplish just about anything. We also realized that given the fact that J1 refused to go in a car seat for the next several weeks that we had probably also irreversibly scarred our first born. Thankfully, she appears to have turned out OK, at least for now.

That single moment, a little over six years ago, when I called Gus from the airport in Phoenix and told him they had made me an offer we probably couldn't refuse, drastically changed the trajectory of our lives. In all good ways, for the most part.

Yet even after six years, I still desperately miss my family---my brother and parents in particular. We planned a quick weekend in Minnesota, which unintentionally marked the six year anniversary of saying good-bye for good. Perhaps it was a subconscious choice. We stayed with my brother, which is where our initial journey had started. On Monday after we said our good-byes, J1 was fighting back the tears because she "missed them so much already." Can't say I blame her because I was doing the same.

Home. It's where my heart and family are. Can that be in two different places? Six years ago, I decided the answer to that question was going to have to be yes.

THEN

AND NOW with an extra Chunglund in tow