Tuesday, December 9, 2008

My husband is up in Boston attending the holiday party there and meeting with those he will work with if we move. In the dark of night I am awake, spinning worries in my head. I get up to wash dishes and walk around the house listening to music with headphones.

After much anxiety, I had a revelation that even this is not either/or decision that will determine our lives. He could go in March and continue to job hunt for positions here. If he likes it there and the house sells, we could follow. It's only a 4 hour drive or train ride for him to come home, and I could take the kids there for April vacation. They would love visiting the science museum and perhaps taking in a game at Fenway.

No one choice determines the future. Just 8 days ago, I figured our future would be in this house.

So he sees the Boston office today and tomorrow. The firm brings in a relocation company to give a presentation at the end of the week. And next week we'll see an offer. These are good choices. Our scenario is a job in Boston and perhaps a wonderful new opportunity. Worst case would be no job, debt and losing our house. I know this is happening to many people.

Saturday, December 6, 2008

Thursday night we attended the holiday party of my husband's company. It was a sad affair. About half the people there are losing their jobs in February. Another half have been offered the option of moving to Boston. Some will go, some are too tied to their community or have other issues that keep them from moving. We attended another party like this in Dec. 2003, a year and a half after the untimely death of our friend and founder of that company. His wife and brother guiding the existing workers in that economic tech bust had been unable to sustain the business.

Holiday parties of businesses that are downsizing or failing are hard to take. Being a naturally fun person, I had too many cosmopolitans. The bartenders must have known the mood of the room and made the drinks large and strong. While there was a DJ, dancers among this crowd of computer programmers and accountants are typically few. That night there were virtually none. I tried to encourage some dancing but mostly danced alone and participated in a bunch of careful, awkward conversations. It's a strange sensation to feel like a survivor among the ruins.

This situation is still a secret kept from our families and kids. Until we have decided what we are doing there is little sense in spreading anxiety. But if I look at the upside for us: it is possible that if we can sell our home, we will do well moving back to a city we left reluctantly 17 years ago. We met in Boston and had a wonderful time there in the early 1990s. I almost feel like we have a special secret that brings us closer.

Thursday, December 4, 2008

I've been loving so many blogs for over a year. Soulemama, No Impact Man, Down to Earth and many others. I kept wanting to get involved, to create a diary you share with others, and create community at the same time.

Right now I'm looking for community and can't find it in the usual places. I've got an established network of friends and family here in Northern New Jersey. But it is likely to be uprooted soon. My husband's job is moving to Boston. We met there while I was in school almost 20 years ago. But I grew up here and we've been living in our house, making a home for 16 years.

I'm not ready to share my worries with my mother and children yet. I don't want to upset anyone before we know what is happening. So here I start my blog in order to document my concerns, loves and journey to a new community that will be there no matter where my actual address is.

Here I can document for posterity the things I will miss about my home if we end up leaving. After only a few days of uncertain future, I am already feeling wistful about the door edge where we have documented our children's growth, the raspberry patch that finally yields enough to freeze and last a few months, and the way our family room glows in the setting sun. I'll get pictures of these things in here as soon as I can. Of course the yard is in it's winter gloom, but I'll be seeing one more spring here while I try to spiff up the house to sell in this difficult economic time.