I blame it on growing up in Alabama and not fitting in. I spent my whole adolescence clawing my way out of there only to figure out later that I wasn’t any happier when I’d left. Goal achieved, now what? Or more precisely, now where? My wanderlust didn’t really sink in until after college. During college I moved every year or two and went home for Christmas and still had tons of stuff in my parents’ attic or garage, we were never really settled until after college.
But eight years of Louisiana has left me constantly looking around for something else, something better, or at something different. Somewhere away from the constant looming threat of hurricanes, some place where the bayou isn’t lapping at my backdoor, some place that I feel safe, where I can unpack and get on with my life. Remaining present in my life is a struggle. C receives head hunter junk mail everyday with jobs in far off and exotic locations like New Zealand (and Texas) most of which of offer more money as a starting salary than he’s making after 8 years at his current practice (not to mention paying benefits for trivial little things like dental insurance).
It’s hard to separate out my feelings about C’s job and my feelings about our currently living situation. C works 80 hours a week and we’re still living our partly unfinished condo with too much stuff and not enough space. It’s two and half years since Katrina rolled through and I still have bare sub-flooring. This is partly because C wants to do most of the work himself… which would be fine if it weren’t for the 80 work week.
I don’t want to spend my kid’s childhood wishing for some other life, in some other city, in some other house, when in reality it’s likely that the big problems wouldn’t be resolved by changing any of those things, just different scenery.