We're about to do something big and scary and exciting and amazing: In less than two weeks, we're moving to Maine. Because I have a fabulous new job. Can you believe it? After years of being unhappy and frustrated in my Delaware job, I have been hired to an excellent position at one of the premier publishers in our field -- and they've asked me to move to Portland, Maine, where the office is located. Many people have looked at me funny when I say this is a dream come true, but I've longed to live in Maine since I was a child scrambling the rocky coastline of Acadia National Park with my brother. New, better job; beautiful small-city for a hometown; fresh air and space for my kids to flourish; a fresh start for us all. It's a super-mega dream scenario.
I'm terrified. Yet there has only been one afternoon when I lost my nerve, sobbing when I realized how much it's going to cost us to sell our home in Delaware. My smart, practical husband said, "I'll do whatever you need. But also remember, it's only money." He's a rock, my guy, and he has not flinched for a moment...even when I told him the moving truck was coming on his birthday.
So we're doing this. We're moving 500 miles from our family and friends. We're leaving our home with a property manager, trying to rent it or sell it. Chris quit is job, with a shrug of his shoulders and a conviction that he'd find a new job in Portland within a couple months. The kids have prepared their friends. Our friends, neighbors, and family have blessed us -- and most have promised to visit in the summer, so we'd better prepare a guest room in our new place.
Here we go...Portland or bust.