No matter how the appellation "Jersey Girl" makes me cringe, over the past 7 1/2 years, I guess that's sort of what I've become -- right down to the ubiquitous tracksuit uniform one sees up here.
7 1/2 years -- that's almost 1/6 of my life to date. 7 1/2 years -- that blows away the old record of 4 years in one spot. Nearly 17% of my time, my energies, my experiences have been applied or have occurred right here in this small, rural area in northwestern Jersey.
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I remember when we moved here. My husband and I drove up late at night in separate cars, dividing the dogs and toddler between us. We traveled in pitch blackness. Not a streetlight, not a house light anywhere. It's probably a good thing we were driving separately, or we might have seriously considered turning around and going back to Philly. As it was, we both
just sat in the car and wondered, "What the heck have we gotten ourselves into???"
But the morning came, as it always does, and when I stepped outside of the hotel, the mountains and valleys and the crisp winter air took my breath away.
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Now as I drive along these lovely backroads that circle my home, I feel a slight pang in knowing that I'll soon miss the sight of them -- the mountains and fields, grazing cows, posturing wild turkeys, the stars and fireflies. These familiar, comforting sights and sounds.
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Although I know that we're going to start something new and exciting in the new place, there is a part of me that wonders, "How will I leave this? What the heck am I thinking?"
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