I existed the last 20 years in a place that never felt like home. I fled to the desert of Arizona as a single mother following my divorce to be near my parents.

I stayed because I wanted my son to have the stability (same house, same school, same friends) that I lacked growing up. I stayed because my mother and I had a date every Saturday morning for breakfast, a game (or three) of cards and shopping. I stayed because I met (and married) a man who loved the barren beauty of red rock and the solemn stance of a lone saguaro cactus. I stayed even though I never felt settled. I stayed even though my jaw was always clenched. I stayed waiting for the other shoe to drop. I stayed, always anxious sometimes medicated. I stayed always on edge, always defensive. I stayed even though being somewhere I did not want to be was making me resentful and bitter and angry. I stayed because I had the beautiful house in the prestigious zip code and the job at the elite medical facility and all of the things that are supposed to make you happy. I stayed because there must be something wrong with me to have these things and still feel my soul shriveling up day after day after day. I stayed because admitting this place had defeated me tasted like failure on the bitter part of my tongue. I stayed because I wasn’t sure I had the strength to do anything but languish. I stayed because it was easier than starting over. I stayed because that is what women do….we put our happiness on hold for those around us and accept it as our lot.I stayed because I was afraid to leave.

Two years ago I learned that there are bigger things to be afraid of than starting over. My son left home, my stepfather passed away unexpectedly and my mother died following a grueling battle with cancer. Death is scary. Living an unfulfilling life is scarier still.

It was time to make a change.

We did a lot of research once the decision to move was made. We wanted someplace not too cold. Someplace green. Someplace with walk ability to “down town” but not TOO close to the action. Someplace with access to nature. Someplace with beautiful, old, historic buildings and houses (this was high on my list.) Someplace different from where we were. Someplace less pretentious. Someplace more “real.” Some place where the pace was slower, the streets less crowded. Someplace where we could be less in a hurry and more in the moment. Someplace where we could pause and reflect and exhale and just “be.” And if that place was haunted (again my wish list) that was OK too.

We decided on Georgia. I had lived there off and on growing up and knew it would check a lot of boxes. We took three trips out, put well over 6,000 miles on the rental car and circled, highlighted and crossed out most of the map as we scoured the state looking for “our place.” We found houses we loved in areas we didn’t and areas we loved with houses we didn’t. And no place felt quite right. Finding a “home” is a lot like falling in love; you can have a checklist of ideals but it really comes down to a feeling. And although some places (Augusta, Columbus, Eatonton) looked great on paper, in person there was just no chemistry. It was, I proclaimed like “looking for a unicorn.” So when we (third trip out) finally found “our place” Brunswick Georgia; south of Savannah, north of Jacksonville, fifteen minutes to the ocean, surrounded by coastal marshes, amazing old houses and the most gorgeous trees draped with Spanish moss; when in “our place” we found “our house” a 135 year old charmer with the distinction of having both a live oak and a magnolia tree in the yard, an enviable, sprawling front porch perfect for telling stories (and maybe spilling some tea) and sipping sweet tea (in the South, I am learning, there is no other kind,) I knew I had found not only a unicorn but (being so close to the water) a sea unicorn. A narwhal.

https://www.goldenisles.com/discover/historic-brunswick/things-to-do-in-brunswick/

So this is me (and my gracious husband) taking the plunge. This is us doing the math and doing the math and doing the math. This is us packing up and moving on. This is us re prioritizing and reevaluating; holding tight and letting go. This is us going crazy and finding our sanity. This is us starting over in Brunswick by the Sea.