Time’s running out. Quickly. Yesterday was my last day of work running the food pantry. I hope that I’ve passed on all the “wisdom” I’ve accumulated to Sue while I had the chance. Clients depend on it.
The truth is that even if I didn’t, there are still a few weeks before the moving van arrives to pack up the crap we’ve accumulated over 23 years. We’re on a precipice here, people – about to move from New England, where we were all born and bred, to the high desert of New Mexico.
When I say “we,” I mean me (the hooker), Tom (the husband), and the almost 18-year old daughter. When I say “born and bred,” I mean raised on Dunkin’ Donuts, trips to Rhode Island beaches, vacations in New Hampshire’s White Mountains, fresh seafood, East coast educations, fiery-colored fall leaves, and, of course, Providence‘s up and continually coming food and art scene.
The truth is that I was born on the western side of Connecticut closer to NYC than Boston. My elementary and high school field trips usually ended up in New York: the Statue of Liberty, Broadway, the Cloisters, the Museum of Natural History, the Metropolitan Opera… (Who can complain about that???) It was only after college and two degrees – in Rhode Island and then in Kansas – and two marriages, that I ended up in Massachusetts. Where I’ve been for 23+ years. Where I learned to hook. And haven’t looked back.
But for years I have looked forward. Back in 1990 or so, I headed to Arizona on business. It was October, 90 degrees, blue-skied, and glorious. I fell in love with the Southwest. A few vacations and explorations later, and new hubby and I espoused New Mexico, truly the land of enchantment with it’s big sky, clear air, art, hiking, and outdoor lifestyle. Sure, things stood in the way: careers, a kid who needed to finish school, and a mother-in-law with Alzheimer’s. (Life does indeed suck sometimes.)
But high school graduation finally arrived last month, and mother-in-law smiles down on us from up above, encouraging migration to a new and warmer climate. New Mexico’s not populated with quite as many hookers as New England and the Maritimes (you can all stop laughing at my understatement), but I’ll find them. And my hopes are to introduce the art form to new admirers. Preferably in trade for weaving lessons. I’ve always wanted to weave. Have you seen the tapestries of Donna Loraine Contractor?
The next few weeks will be busy. And potentially volatile. Emotions run high when you’re in the midst of a cross country move to a place with no one waiting for you. Just your dreams and hopes for a new adventure. Follow us and see where they take us.
