On the Move
I’m kind of a mutt. It’s one of the things I like best about myself. Moving around when you’re growing up is nightmarish at the time, but as each place leaves its distinctive mark, you begin to appreciate your mottled appearance.
It was now time to move again, but where? I knew I didn’t have the energy to try somewhere new—but that still left a lot of places. Let’s see…should I go back to LA, Oregon, Colorado, Philadelphia, stay in Chicago or attempt a new neighborhood in NY? The easiest move would be to stay near my brothers (3) and sisters (2) and parents who all lived in the Chicagoland area. The support of family, the familiarity of surroundings, the midwestern friendliness certainly had an appeal. The obvious downside was clear: when would these tiny kids get to see their dad? The hardest move would be back to NY and be so close to him but no longer with him. Tough choices.
I had one sister left. Julie. The sister with whom I’d had a love/hate relationship ever since she was born so soon after me and tried to steal my thunder. She lived in Philadelphia—and had since college. She was in her early thirties and single. Often unhappy, she blamed much of her hurt on my mother—and on me. Still, she was my sister and I knew she’d be there for me. I also knew it was only an hour and a half from NYC, so it wouldn’t be impossible for the kids to see Greg on a regular schedule. I called to tell her I was coming.
Julie (and my cousins who also lived in the area) rallied immediately. They found me a house to rent in a liberal, diverse neighborhood, checked out the local preschools, and babysat the kids while I attended to the actual move. She was waiting at the house upon our arrival.
She listened. She helped.
She listened more. She helped more.
She still got on my nerves, as I did on hers.
I couldn’t have done it without her.
It was now time to move again, but where? I knew I didn’t have the energy to try somewhere new—but that still left a lot of places. Let’s see…should I go back to LA, Oregon, Colorado, Philadelphia, stay in Chicago or attempt a new neighborhood in NY? The easiest move would be to stay near my brothers (3) and sisters (2) and parents who all lived in the Chicagoland area. The support of family, the familiarity of surroundings, the midwestern friendliness certainly had an appeal. The obvious downside was clear: when would these tiny kids get to see their dad? The hardest move would be back to NY and be so close to him but no longer with him. Tough choices.
I had one sister left. Julie. The sister with whom I’d had a love/hate relationship ever since she was born so soon after me and tried to steal my thunder. She lived in Philadelphia—and had since college. She was in her early thirties and single. Often unhappy, she blamed much of her hurt on my mother—and on me. Still, she was my sister and I knew she’d be there for me. I also knew it was only an hour and a half from NYC, so it wouldn’t be impossible for the kids to see Greg on a regular schedule. I called to tell her I was coming.
Julie (and my cousins who also lived in the area) rallied immediately. They found me a house to rent in a liberal, diverse neighborhood, checked out the local preschools, and babysat the kids while I attended to the actual move. She was waiting at the house upon our arrival.
She listened. She helped.
She listened more. She helped more.
She still got on my nerves, as I did on hers.
I couldn’t have done it without her.
posted by Ask Me Anything at Sunday, October 22, 2006
5 Comments:
Your sister and cousins were there for you as I am sure, by having met you, you have always been there for them.
Great post Terry.
This so well encapsulates the Julie/Terry dynamic! Love, love and MORE love, Carrie.
i love your sister.
i love how the story is moving along. you're doing it!
Foxy new picture Ms. Terry!
Love your writing. More please.
Love that you are putting so much into this. Adding the picture is great, you whole site is really becoming developed. I hope you are feeling a sense of letting go as you experience this.
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