“Daddy said we should move back to Cape Cod,” my eight year old announced as I got home from shopping on Monday night. Apparently my exasperated sigh was a lot louder than I thought it would be, and I could feel ten eyes on me as I concentrated on lugging in the bags. They all knew what was about to hit the fan.
For years now, this man begged, pleaded, cajoled and tried to guilt me into moving someplace warm – “for the good of the family”. I resisted…after all, I moved back to upstate New York from my beloved Cape Cod to be with my parents. Being an only child, I depended on them to guide and support me. I was not going to abandon them now! However, my conscience started to eat away at me, and after years of soul-searching – and my mother’s blessing – I was FINALLY able to make peace with my decision and move forward and move all those hours away to where everyone was begging me to move to. And NOW, out of the blue – I get hit with Cape Cod.
I have no problems with moving back to the Cape, in fact, I have the most incredible memories of living there and I truly would be happy to return to my sleepy little Chatham. But, we have decided on moving somewhere warm and at this point the girls and I have our hearts set on “tropical” Myrtle Beach.
In the meantime, I have been beginning to pack.