I'm Really, REALLY Starting Over

Two weeks ago tonight, I arrived home after what can only be described as a hellish trip back to New York to really and truly start over.  I accepted the position of library director in the library I grew up in, packed as much as I thought I could into my car on Christmas Day, and drove into northern New York State in the midst of a blizzard, which I carefully skirted by driving into the mountains ironically, but which found me anyway.  I had lived in my Virginia house for 12 years, and the last three of those years have seen me build a life in which I found myself, rebuilt, made a lot of missteps, discovered new passions and interests, and made deep, deep connections with friends I hope I will know the rest of my life.  

When I came north for the job interview, a flying 48 hour trip in early December, Leah and I made a list of good and bad things about us moving up here.  The good things far outweighed the bad--free college tuition, much cheaper cost of living and a far better quality of life, the ability to make a commute that didn't take all day, a job that I knew I would love and be good at, friends and family here that I've known practically my entire life, Leah could take up skating, a quieter and smaller way of life, a small school where she would get the attention she needs...  This was in contrast to life in Virginia, where I left behind some of the best friends I ever had and a church  community I loved, as well as my mom and sister and family, but the stress of living on the I95 corridor was killing me.  I was sad to say goodbye to politics, as it had become my passion in the past year, but I figured I would be able to find some sort of political actions to join here in New York as well.

So, two weeks ago today we arrived and two weeks ago tomorrow, I started my new job.  I truly cannot remember ever working a job that I have looked forward to doing more than this one so far.  I go in early.  I'm disappointed when it's time to close up shop for the day and go home.  I'm surrounded by books, I talk books with readers, I have volunteers and coworkers and trustees who love the library and the books... I can make the books relevant and update the library and hopefully make it so that people want to be there.  That is my ultimate goal:  to make people absolutely salivating to get into the library.

I'm so enjoying small town life again.  People come in just because they know I'm back and they want to say hello.  They all say, "I'm not one to gossip" but then proceed to impart 'knowledge' of our fellow townspeople, who I should trust, who I should make it clear to that I'm in charge, who is still the biggest dope the town ever knew, who has shaped up considerably since middle school, who is sleeping with whom, who is divorced, who is getting married... I've heard it all and then some.  My former teachers are my favorite visitors--they bring me donations, they volunteer hours, they are looking for a house for me, they give me hugs and yell my name.  These people profoundly changed my life as I grew up and learned from them, and I hope they're proud of what I do in the coming months to this institution they know and love.

I have a 17 mile commute door to door.  It takes me about 15 minutes in good weather, which is to say that most days it takes me closer to 30 minutes to get there.  Along the way, I check book drops, I wave to my old school where Leah is now a third grader in my old 6th grade classroom, I marvel at the houses that look great and feel sad about the ones that are falling apart.  I dodge deer and snowmobiles.  We took a back road 'for the hell of it' the other day and came upon some kids from out of town who had flipped their truck into a ditch.  We gave them a lift back to their camp and felt good that we trusted them enough to let them in the car and they trusted us enough to ride.   I look at "For Sale" signs, and I remember what happened in a particular house with a particular friend or how we used to walk around the lake or where someone got married.  I take Leah to skating lessons in the same arena I had them, and remember spraining my ankle, performing in ice shows, 8th grade fun day, the roof collapsing when I was in 6th grade.  I've been to a funeral already, as one of my dearest high school friends, her father passed away right after I arrived.  I don't remember him at all, sadly, but the minute I walked in, the 25 years since I'd last seen her disappeared.  I'd have known her anywhere and it was so nice to hug her and talk to her for a bit.  I had a New Year's Eve party with another friend--we grew up together with our parents playing cards every New Year's and most weekends with us watching and scheming and preparing for our own turn.  Now we have kids and it's our turn to sit at the table and play cards and gossip and shoot the breeze.  It's so comfortable, the years have melted away.  Leah and I went to their house last weekend and ate chips and dip and played and had a blast.  It was great.

I've read two books in the past week, I've played games with my dad and Leah pretty regularly, attended a new UU church and already started talking to people, gotten in touch with a couple of progressive women's groups, and gone all over the North Country for shopping.  Dad and I rearranged furniture, we bought Leah a dresser, we are tripping over four cats and watching with scientific amusement as Dodo and Jazzy fight for alpha status (I SERIOUSLY do not know how cat hoarders do it--four cats is a lot of cats)...  The cats have me trained for their breakfast.  I've gotten stuck in the snow twice and required a push to get out (once in our own driveway!)...  I read the turmoil on Facebook of the things I left in the middle of, things that two weeks ago seemed life threateningly important, and now I just take a deep breath and go about my business.  Even the hateful things said about me in response to a recent article in the paper didn't get me down in the slightest.  I seem to know who I am and I seem to be at peace with that.

In short, I'm settled.  I have the specter of my house in Virginia hanging over me and moving my things, but I truly can't even remember what I have down there that I want to move up here.  We've traded in a 2400 square foot house for a 120 foot bedroom that Leah and I share (our choice, Leah could have had her own room but chose not to), and honestly we are happy.  Leah comes home with stories about going sledding at recess, about the joys of having a locker, about how all the kids change into three different pairs of shoes each day, because you need lunch shoes, "swear to God, Mom!"  We argue about her wearing a coat and boots and gloves and a hat, and I roll my eyes and remember arguing with my parents about those very same things--"Only losers wear coats, and besides, it's not THAT cold out there."  We moved here in the midst of a brutal cold spell--it was -33 with the windchill on Saturday and Sunday.

I drive Leah to school and back right now because I don't feel like waiting at the bus stop in the cold and snow.  We sing along to whatever's on XM and we climb the hill, and we talk about our days and who had more fun.  I watched her yesterday morning as she hopped out of the car.  The only part of her that was visible under all her cold weather gear was her eyes.  I watched her run to the set of doors that were unlocked, pull them open confidently, and run inside, in stark contrast to the first days when she was all "We have to go to school when there's this much snow on the ground!?  But it's cold outside!!" and "This school is so big! I'll get lost.  I don't know anyone!".  And I thought to myself, "Wow, it's amazing that humans are so adaptable." 

Thank goodness we are, friends.  Thank goodness we are.