Blogging at 30,000 feet

It's rare that you get to write about a major life event as it's happening, but thanks to the marvels of modern technology (and $39.95), I'm writing this as Less and I fly out to San Francisco to start our new life together.

I came to Atlanta to go to Emory. When that was over I would have left (to go where, I'm not sure, but I think it would have been some cool city) except that I had found the love of my life in Atlanta and he owned a house there. The house was lovely, but it was located "outside the perimeter," which refers to the area outside of 285 which encircles the city. To Atlantans anything outside the perimeter is "super far away" and "not really Atlanta."

I wasn't nuts about living 40 minutes away from the stuff I like to do. Going swing dancing was an hour in each direction, and going to the Northside Tavern, my favorite spot to dance, sing and generally carry on, felt like a slog. There were no coffee shops near us, and when I need a place to work or socialize, that's where I go (in fact, it's the first thing I find when I move to a new city).

Less doesn't mind driving, and he has a motorcycle-- so of course he had a great time riding in the summer. Me, I got tired of how my friends would never visit me "way out there" and feeling like I had two options on Friday night: either drive ten minutes to the freeway, spend another fifteen on said freeway, get off, fight traffic, and arrive at my destination; or, stay home. I stayed home way too much, and when I graduated and all I had to do all day was write, I went crazy pretty quickly.

Fortunately for me, I married the most amazing person I have ever met, and when the opportunity came up for us to relocate to California he asked me if I wanted to go. I love my friends in Atlanta but constantly having to work to keep the feelings of isolation at bay was exhausting. It didn't take much consideration on my part to say yes.

And wonderful man that he is, my guy uprooted his life, moved from the city where he'd been for twelve years, took a risk with his job and underwent the stress of moving (which, when you own a five-bedroom house plus a basement full of stuff is considerable... never mind moving our six animals all the way across the country), and got on this plane with me, all because he knows I'll be happier if I have a hand in choosing where I live.

I don't know what's coming when we land on the other coast, but as we were pulling out of the driveway today I was wondering if I felt sad about leaving the house. I usually get pretty bummed when I leave someplace-- I'm a sentimental person, what can I say?-- but suddenly I realized that all of the things that I would have missed, all of the experiences I'd had there, were based on the person sitting next to me.

I will miss the lake, though. It's hard to top sitting on the porch, listening to frogs sing.

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