“My Story… ” Monday: Looking (not too far) northward.

 

 

 

Sometimes I wonder what my young husband thought of my suddenly expressing dissatisfaction with living in Florida. I mean, we MET in Florida. We got engaged in Florida. While we had our wedding in Connecticut, we headed right back down to Florida to a condo outside of West Palm Beach. I worked with, and fit in well with, the Boca Raton crowd. He worked with a more “working class” population and liked it, too.

 

But, like I said, my feet were growing itchy. I was starting to pull up the shallow roots I’d let down. And, lucky for me, I’d married a guy who cared very much about my opinion and happiness.

 

It was Springtime by then, and we started talking about when and where we’d like to move.

 

–We had to figure out where to go.

 

–We had to pick a target date.

 

–We had to find new jobs.

 

–We had to sell our condo.

 

–We had to find a new place to live.

 

We decided we could do it all by September 30th, which would be the last day of the third quarter– such things matter when you both work in banking.

 

So we had a “when.”

 

We needed a “where.”

 

To be honest, while I had cried real tears over the heat that surrounded us at Christmastime in South Florida, I was very reluctant to go back to the New England winters with which I’d grown up. While Florida seemed pretty season-less, the Northeast had seasons a touch too intense for me. My husband felt the same way about the Midwest. While we’d both loved our childhoods and had fond memories of chilly autumns and wild snowstorms, we weren’t interested in those anymore.

 

We wanted a happy medium. We wanted a mild climate with definite seasons, but no super extreme weather.

 

Though neither of us knew much about either state, we decided that either Virginia or North Carolina would probably suit our purposes. I loved the fact that they had both coastline and mountains. He loved that our company was located in both states. We were both thrilled that the climate was far more variable than Florida’s, but not as severe as those far-North states.

 

Keep in mind… we still had to list and sell our condo. We still had to find out if we could even get jobs somewhere there within our company. And, perhaps even more daunting than all that, we had to find a good town to move to– one with good schools and nice neighborhoods. One that was pretty and probably suburban so we’d be able to find work easily.

 

And neither of us had ever spent any amount of time in Virginia or North Carolina.

 

Where do you even start that kind of project? Honestly, though the internet surely existed, it wasn’t the same back then. We were kind of too young and too poor and, also, too wildly optimistic to think about planning a trip up there to scope out the place. We also weren’t really the “go to the library and spend hours researching” kind of people.

 

What I was, however, was a chatty people-person.

 

And, so, within a couple of weeks, I had the name of a town.

 

I excitedly told my husband what I’d learned…

 

(In case you missed it, I started this story right here:  Itchy Feet)

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