One more moment

Zee tried to have a good attitude about it, but sometimes it seemed like they were never going to find a house. How many offers had they put in over the last three or four years? Six? Ten? She’d lost count. Really, their standards weren’t even that high. They were looking for a fixer-upper within walking distance of public transit that would get her husband to work in less than an hour each way. Some of the houses they had looked at were absolute dumps that would need, at best, total renovation. They weren’t sure it was even possible to get rid of the cat smell in one of those formerly- and hopefully future-grand homes they’d tried to buy.

This one they were about to drive by had real promise. It was outside of the city they loved, but it at least seemed to be in a community where they could invest and connect. They’d explored the area on this beautiful New England summer day. Warren was driving, and Zee was navigating and entertaining little man in the back seat. She was reading the address from her ever present little black notebook, instructing him to turn right, when the text alert on her phone sounded. Setting down her moleskin, she picked up her phone and read the text.

A beat passed, her heart jumped into her throat, and she said, “Oh, shit. We’re moving back to Georgia.” To his confused and surprised reaction, she replied, “Jack Dardos quit and Kerr wants you to apply.” They both sat in stunned silence. They did drive past that cute little house, but it didn’t even register. They knew it was pointless. They’d be relocating soon. Funny how sometimes you just know.

The next few months flew by in a whirlwind of quick trips, interviews, house hunting, planning, endless to-do lists in the black book, last visits to favorite spots, and tearful goodbyes. As was always central to their family life, there were many vision conversations about the whys of the move. Pondering and prayer and late night chats brought clarity, and Zee and Warren felt strongly that the two biggest reasons this felt like the right move were that they’d be closer to her mom as she aged, and that the lower cost of living in Georgia meant they could be debt free in the next 10-15 years. Buying a house sight-unseen for $50K would certainly be a part of that process. So they took the leap.

Five years to the day that they’d arrived in Boston, they loaded up the truck, said goodbye to the only home little man had ever known, and set off on a new adventure. The two day trip gave Zee time to decompress from the craze of packing and preparing as she followed the truck in her aging minivan. At rest stops and meal breaks, she’d write down observations in her book:

“One. Night of weird dreams, woken up early by neighborhood noise, hit the ground running with last bits of packing, laundry, cleaning, more packing and more cleaning, eating lunch out of a cooler sitting on the floor, more packing and cleaning, trying to cram everything in the van and throwing out things you meant to keep because they won't fit, finally saying tearful goodbyes to landlady and friend of 5 years, last library drop off, locking up Warren's work for the last time, pulling out of this town that's given us 5 wonderful years and the birth of a son, driving-driving-driving, boy riding in the big truck, mom in the blissfully quiet van with a charming British story on cd, dinner stop, more driving-driving-driving, hotel, tv and comfy beds. Day 1 complete. Only 165 of 1100 miles covered but already a world away.

Two: Cozy night's sleep, all 3 tucked in in one room, groggy awakening, hotel breakfast, on the road. Driving, beauty: frozen water running down cliffs, rolling hills, tree freckled fields, outlooks over valleys. Lunch, more driving and more beauty. Some of my favorite scenes of the Shenandoah valley, charming English audiobook. Walkie talkie chats with the boys in the big truck. Dinner. Tired us. A little more driving. God's blessings on us, including safe travel. A few minutes of hotel tv, then more welcome sleep. Day 2 complete. 750 miles down, 350 to go. Georgia tomorrow.

Three: Weird night's sleep in a sweltering hotel room. Meltdown as only almost-4 yr olds can execute. Breakfast at the Waffle House, resulting in cheerfulness by all. Driving. Amazing views. Truck stop gas stop. Got separated for 2 1/2 hrs. Panicky mama on the walkie talkie. State patrol says no wrecks. Hubby has no cell phone. Better keep going and hope he stops to call. Ask truck driving couple (fu Manchu bald man and lovely Latin lady) if drivers still use cb's but no. Husband finally calls, reunited with funny story of being flagged down by a trucker and his lady and told through open window, "call your wife!" More driving, staying close now. Almost there. Trying to recall once familiar roads. Quick dinner--mmm BBQ. Clean grocery store. Ensconced in lovely spare room of old friend. Time for sleep. Day 3 complete. 1100 miles driven. Jobs to start and houses to buy tomorrow.”

And after the whirlwind, there was calm and quiet. After bustling city life, there was rural silence instead of squealing train brakes and bright stars instead of street lights. There was preparation for mom to visit the new house for Christmas...only she never made it. There was illness. There was a hospital stay and waiting. And then a diagnosis. The bad kind. There were visits to Florida while Warren settled into the new job and got the house in order. There were treatments and hopeful prognosis. And then came pneumonia. And oxygen. And choice and dignity. And goodbye. Funerals and family gathering, memories and laughter and tears. And grief. And cleaning out of closets and attics. And...inheritance.

Mom and Dad were not wealthy people. They were hard-working and thoughtful people. They planned, they saved, they gave. And they looked out for their children’s futures. Suddenly those reasons for the move took on a different light. Being close to mom as she aged meant being able to be with her as she fell ill and passed away. Had Zee still been in Boston, that wouldn’t have been possible. The 10-15 year timeline of getting out of debt turned into six months. Student loans and the mortgage were paid off. A year later an addition was put on the house to make room for a surprise baby girl who would be named after her nana. Zee was able to stay home and focus on the kids while she pursued her professional credentials that would allow her to work in the field she loved.

And years later, on the seventh anniversary of her mother’s passing, Zee would look back at her little black book from 2013 and read her own recorded thoughts from that year of transition and loss and new beginnings. She would sit on the couch in the house that her mother’s careful planning bought her, with her little book in her hands, feeling grateful for it all.

But she would agree with her younger self that she would trade all those things that money can buy for one more hug and conversation, for one more moment with her mom.