Emerald's 9th letter + 2 Months Old & a HUGE adventure is coming

(Photos are at the bottom of page)

In this moment time has paused. In the basement at Grandma's, surrounded by half packed boxes, and piles to still sort. You fell asleep, I gently placed you on the "egg" chair, the sun got in your eyes and you started squirming about uncomfortably. Since you didn't stay asleep, I picked you up, and told grandma to go ahead and vacuum if she wanted to. Back in my arms, I rocked you gently, "I love you so much" I whispered to you. A big smile swept across your face and in that moment life paused. In that moment the only people in this world was you and I, even though the vacuum was humming in the background. You looked at me with your precious eyes full of content and peace, immediately you went back to sleep. 

As I'm typing this I just realized today is the 20th of October! You are now two months old. 8 weeks isn't that long but it feels like I've loved you for a million years, it feels like you've always been part of me and I guess in many ways you have. I'm sure your dad would agree.

He is currently tossing about on the fork lift at work.

The boxes, the piles of things to still sort, well, we are getting ready to embark on a big adventure sweet girl! 

Your dad and I have been offered an opportunity which hopefully will get us closer to our bigger goals.

We are moving to New York!

It still sounds foreign when I say it, it really hasn't sank in for me that we will be leaving Ohio. I suppose since this offer came into our existence about 8 or 9 days ago and then the final decision to go through with it was 3 days ago, it still feels like an idea and not a reality. Sitting here with you cuddled up in my arms and surrounded by moving boxes I wanted to appreciate this moment as your sweet heart beats against mine.

I have moved way more times than most people do. This is actually the longest time I have stayed in one town consecutively since I was 21 years old.

At 21 I moved away from my hometown to Florida. That is a long story for another day. I'll eventually get to it. Built up trauma, a wondering spirit, chasing something that couldn't be found, and running away from what I discovered later was my own demons is what led me to always leaving, always looking for what was actually never 'out there', always searching for that home feeling. Always going to the next town. I have been here with your father in Ohio at your grandma's since last.... (thinking) oh, since last November. So, actually this hasn't been the longest I've stayed in the same town consecutively since 21.

It is odd. For some reason or another each time a year creeps in, I'm moving again. Maybe when I worked at the crystal shop in Virginia, maybe that was the longest. I believe I was there a couple of months over a year, I could be wrong. I don't do well with time or dates. 

Moving isn't unfamiliar to me. It feels exciting and a tad scary this time. I've never been as far north as we are about to be going, winter will be settling in long before we even do, and you are still so young. I expected us to still be here in Ohio when you started learning to walk and talk. Your grandma was going to teach you German/Dutch. Even though your father left the Amish community I still wanted you to learn the language. I always feel the more we know the better; in most cases. There are times where I feel ignorance can be bliss, especially in this twisted world. I suppose your dad will have the task of teaching you the language now.

You can video chat with grandma.

It isn't the same. 

That is the thing about life. It is constantly changing.

I'm grateful for the time we've had here. I'm grateful for the time spent with your grandma, all of those nights playing domino's when it was too cold to go outside, all of those conversations. The baking, the cooking, the hosting of small birthday celebrations, homemade pizza nights, and growth from shared stories. 

Day to day things seem to be the same, then something happens. 

Like a trapped rock in a pipe,

stuck,

stuck,

stuck,

nothing moves it. Pressure keeps coming and the rock stays stuck.

Then, something happens.

The rock eventually blows out of the pipe and energy flows freely again. 

Your dad and I have felt like that rock. Your dad has felt that way longer than I have. Before your dad and I met I was constantly going. Sun up to sun down I was in motion with little time for rest, little time to slow down, little time to be stuck. I was solo traveling various states, camping, and kayaking. More stories of that time in my life will come eventually. 

Since being in Ohio with your dad we have felt like that rock. We have felt stuck. Not necessarily in a bad way. In a way that is good for a season or two, eventually that time has to pass and the energy needs to shift. It seems like every opportunity or thing your dad and I have tried since being here together hasn't worked. It was beginning to feel like Ohio itself was rejecting us and maybe it was. Maybe we aren't meant to permanently be here. Whatever the bigger picture is I'm not sure. All I know is an opportunity came and now for the first time in a year we feel like we are that rock that finally was pushed free from the stagnant grip. 

I loved this space, physically and mentally I needed this year of stillness, this year of slowness, this year of calm, of quiet, of gentleness, of rest. Now, it is time for an adventure. It is time for change, for something new, for something that shakes the cobwebs off the soul. 

The sound of the packing tape was a bit loud in the silent basement. As I stretched it tight across another box it woke you briefly. I started the washer for some background noise to help mask my sounds from packing. Normally you sleep in my arms as I work on the website or various tasks that can be done while holding you.

Why New York? 

Your dad made a connection with a family on a small farm. They need help, we want to homestead, and after hypothetically talking about the possibility we decided to take the plunge. We will move into a small studio apartment on the property. We can have an even bigger garden when spring comes, we will help tend to the goats and the 40+ chickens. We can bake things to sell at the stand from home, we will soon put in the commercial kitchen below our apartment space and expand into bigger things. We will learn to tap maple trees, become bee keepers, and lean into a community of similar minded people. The Adirondack mountains are nearby. Plenty of places for your fathers wild spirit to roam. Plenty of places for you, little Emerald to have big grand adventures. Much bigger than Salt Fork here in Ohio. 

Bigger isn't always better, the grass isn't always greener somewhere else either. I'm not implying that.

Sometimes, different is needed though and that is exactly the reason for New York. 

Sometimes, something different shakes up the soul and gets things going again. Your dad and I are the same in that sense. Sometimes when something doesn't work, like an old rusted farm tractor, you give it a bit of a kick, it starts up again, running like new. Well, New York is our little kick for our worn out souls. 

Cheers to your 2 months here with us. 

Cheers to surprising opportunities. 

Cheers to heavy duty packing tape, new adventures, and knowing that home isn't a place but it is the people. For me home is you and your dad.