Goings and Comings

Having a baby shower for your firstborn on the same weekend your youngest moves halfway across the country makes for some interesting emotional moments. From 5:00 a.m. on Saturday, standing on the driveway tearfully waving goodbye to collapsing on the couch and sleeping in my party dress on Sunday, the highs and lows I experienced over the past two days would rival anything Space Mountain could ever throw at me.

Change and I have never been the best of friends. I'm all for the status quo if I have any kind of say in the matter. I know that's not a recipe for growth but if you ask me, growth is very overrated. And you can call me crazy but I'm also not particularly fond of events that leave me feeling as if my heart is being ripped out of my chest. Having never sent either of my kids off to a college that was more than a couple of hours away, it was inevitable that a few tears were going to be shed as I watched the Denver-bound moving truck fill up with my son's belongings; as I watched my parents envelop him in a bear hug and warn him to stay away from "that marijuana crap"; as I watched his pregnant sister give him an extra embrace, knowing that he would miss the birth of her first child.

But, after all the tears, I knew there was work to be done. There was a shower to be thrown; a welcoming party for the newest member of our family. There were cupcakes to decorate and balloons to be hung. I was grateful for the diversion.

Sunday afternoon, a roomful of friends and relatives gathered to abundantly bless our daughter and her husband with love and everything our new grandson could possibly need. There was so much joy watching my daughter revel in the anticipation of becoming a mother that, for a moment, I could only remember how wonderful it is to be a parent. Because, no matter how many times I've felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest, I've been lucky enough to be a part of creating two amazing people that have brought me more happiness than I could have ever imagined. They were the ones who made my dreams come true.

Now it's their turn.

Where Are We Going?

Every year Money magazine has an article detailing the best places to live in America. I look forward to reading this issue each summer, hoping that some detail mentioned will be the catalyst to propel me to finally decide on my next (and hopefully last) zip code. Number one this year is Louisville, Colorado. Never heard of it but it looks nice enough; beautiful scenery, reasonable housing, strong economy. The town looks like something out of 1950s America, with a charming historic district and smiling children cuddled with their parents on a picnic blanket. It might be a contender except for one thing - winter.

I don't know where I want to eventually relocate but I'm pretty sure it won't be anywhere with little white flakes falling from the sky. Living an entire life in the Chicago area (with a couple of detours to England and Germany) had made me leery of settling anywhere with the potential of major snowfalls. I've definitely had it with winters that last for six months, white-knuckle driving and cold that takes your breath away. So I guess I'm out of luck hoping that the Money picks would help guide me. Nine out of the top ten are north of the Mason/Dixon line.

So the search goes on. Maybe I'll stumble across that perfect place with low taxes, warm temperatures and beautiful scenery. Maybe next year's list will uncover a hidden gem that moves me to hammer the "for sale" sign in my front yard. Maybe I'll sell my book or win the lottery so I can live half the year in a Tuscan villa and half the year here in the Midwest, close to family.

Stop laughing. A girl can dream, can't she?