We dated for a handful of months, keeping things quiet because we worked together. The first week of February, he was transferred to the East Coast and we broke up. I was distraught. I didn’t eat or sleep for the better part of seven weeks. Easter weekend in NYC brought us back together, at a crossroad: we could move to Arizona, where I had an excellent job opportunity. He could move to Denver, where I also had a couple job opportunities. Or I could move to the East Coast and find something new – knowing he already had a great job. While it took a while to agree on a zip code, we were certain we wanted to be together.

If there was ever a man meant to live in a big city, he’s the one. He grew up in Europe and still travels there frequently, is more at ease in a three-piece suit than shorts and a T-shirt. He LOVES New York, a quick train ride away. If I was willing to come east, he’d care for us. (Nelson included, of course.)

To the shock of many, I started packing. Here’s why:

  1. I love this man. And I am a complete and total sucker for love. He makes me better. My life is happier when we are together. We make sense.
  2. A fresh start. Although I’d just done this with a move to Colorado two years prior, it all sounded so very nice. I didn’t need all of this stuff. I didn’t need to stay in a job I hadn’t enjoyed for a long time — even if my clients were fantastic. I was being given a chance to free myself of both.
  3. I’ve never lived on the East Coast. And while I am a western girl at heart, it will be fun to discover a new place. I’m looking forward to upstate New York this summer, and road trips to states I’ve only ever seen on maps. Ben and Jerry’s in Vermont! Screaming, “live free or die!” in New Hampshire. Lobster in Maine, etc. {I am writing this from a Starbucks in New Jersey, wearing chunky turquoise, a jean jacket, and dirty white chucks. I’m surrounded by folks wearing black, puffy Burberry coats with plaid at the cuffs, or pressed Brooks Brothers with flashy links. Toto, we aren’t in Golden anymore.}
  4. A new career. I’ve got time and a bit of savings. I can plan this next job without that sense of, “holy Moses, I just got laid off twice in four months” urgency that led to the last. I have time to think about how I want to spend my time, in addition to finishing my novel.
  5. Maybe I’m just dreaming, but being closer to the capital of publishing gives me more hope for finding the right agent and editor for future novels.
  6. It isn’t permanent. We have dreams of living abroad and raising a family in the West. I want my closest friends and family nearby. My life is richer with community.
  7. Did I mention I love him? He is a good man. Plus, it is kinda fun to be spontaneous for the first time in my otherwise very planned life.

Thank you for all of the well wishes. Change of address cards hitting the post next week — as Nelson and I hit the open road, bound for New Jersey.


P.S. Yeah, I moved to Africa when I was 20. But Jersey? THIS IS SCARY.