The spouse's work story is not my story to tell, but I do believe one of the final straws was when we had a telecommunication malfunction, unfortunately during a conference call. Comcast was paid good money month after month to provide us with phone, internet, and cable television; the basic premise being that we pay our periodic bill and they provide us constant service. Unfortunately, the Comcastic experience was that we paid regularly and they randomly provided service. The cable TV service was pretty stable but the internet and associated phone were quite another thing. One of the random failures was during a teleconference, and that apparently became an oft brought up subject henceforth, as if telecommunication malfunctions were a choice rather than an unexpected and unwanted occurrence.
It came to pass that there was an interesting job posting in a far-off location. The spouse, unhappy in his present situation, mentioned it and said, "Should I apply?" Picturing how many resumes cross a hiring manager's desk, and how unlikely it was that he would hear anything further, I said, "Sure." I knew nothing would come of it. The application was due on a Friday and he submitted it on that final day. Of course I assumed that was the last of it. Monday morning he was called to schedule a phone interview. Again, there had to be scads of people they were talking to and that would be the last of it. The interview took place--Comcast providing telecommunication services without incident--and they then wanted him to come out for an in-person interview. Sure, they were going to interview some number of people, and that would be the last of it. When they wanted to fly me out for several days, I was beginning to think it might not be the last of it.
Where do we belong? With our family, our friends, in our home, in our neighborhood, at our job of so many years. That picture is so entrenched, can it be otherwise?
The very first time I held my baby in my arms I asked the question, "When do I stop worrying about her?" Years later the answer arrived loud and clear. Never. Even when she grew up and moved away, I was in the same state and same time zone; a phone call away, a short flight or a long drive and I was there. And I did board that plane a few times to report for Mom duty, sometimes just for a visit and sometimes for mother-dreading reasons, but it was a relatively easy and quick trip. Being somewhat close at hand for my daughter anchored me to where I was, but my daughter had moved across a continent and an ocean. My being in California no longer offered an advantage for proximity.
The worry I was not expecting was the worrying up. It is so gradual so as not to be noticed, but one day my parents looked a little shorter than they once did, a little slower, a little more forgetful. I discovered that a part of growing older is not just worrying about one's children but one's parents too.
I particularly worried about my mother living on her own after my father had passed away. Although with reluctance she moved into a retirement community, her life changed dramatically. Making plans with her became a challenge of trying to work around her calendar, not only did she become involved in activities but ran and won a place on the resident's board. As active as she became, I was not ready for what happened next. She had admirers and a very thoughtful gentleman won the day with flowers and sweet attention. In her new home she had an attentive and caring companion.
As it became clear how happily my mother was settled, the same was happening in Germany. The visa miraculously was granted and the plans to relocate to another country had become a reality.
Family anchored me, but at that moment the seas were calm and I was not immediately needed at the helm. The possibility of changing everything occurred just when those who needed me the most did not need me to be in a certain place. Simply because it was possible, we did not dismiss the idea of relocation immediately; that was not to be the last of it.
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