I have close friends who will not even remember that there was another time in my life when I attempted to leave Santa Cruz. It was shortly after my relationship with Greg dissolved and in a similar "this town just isn't big enough for the both of us" fashion, I was taking the dog, Clyde, the things that were going to fit in my backpack and I was moving to Santa Fe, New Mexico.
I quit my job. There were various farewell parties for me. I really felt mentally prepared to leave. Greg had pretty much taken everything that we had shared in our lives together so I really only did have the dog and my backpack and a lot of books (what is it with me and the books?) but I truly believed that I was moving to New Mexico.
And then, a few days before I was supposed to get on the airplane to fly away, I called Lynda in Bonny Doon. She is the mother of Pilar, and one of my dearest friends, as I have been a part of their family since Pilar joined their family back in 1992 and I joined them, too. I told Lynda that while I knew I was leaving for Santa Fe, I kept finding myself rearranging the furniture in the cabin on their property. The cabin that they had for their live-in nanny. The cabin that had just the day before been vacated! Would I like to have it?
Well, that, my friends, was an 11th hour reprieve. At the same time I learned that Greg was moving to Boulder, Colorado and so I decided that I would stay. Here. In Santa Cruz. My little gem of a town by the sea.
I had dinner with that very same family last night. They live in a different house now. A house that doesn't have a cabin for me. I also now have two big dogs and while I know, deep in my heart, that if I truly needed to they would figure out a way to make it work so I could stay with them, I can't ask them to do that. Pilar is about to go to college. Alexander has his own apartment in San Francisco. But it is a testament to our love for one another that when I called them with my news about Dave's "I'm done" ultimatum the first thing Chuck said was, "Jen, are you moving back in?" in complete seriousness. I love them so dearly.
Our dinner last night was perfect. It always is, no matter what. But it was such a celebration of who we all are as individuals and as family. And I am going to miss them. I know I have my own real family who happens to actually live in Utah. But let's remember that I have always said that family is not really the one you're born into, but rather the one that you choose. I have chosen them.
I have also chosen Chris and Holly. And they know this. I had to say goodbye to them and their amazing kids last night, as well. And my heart ached, literally, as I hugged my dear friend Holly goodbye. I haven't even known her that long. But there are certain people on this planet that you just make an instant heart connection with...who just get you. Who finish your sentences for you before you even start them. And Holly is one of those people for me. Her husband Chris is one of my best friends, as well. No joke. He will be coming to Sundance, so I'll see him very soon. It's just goodbye, I know.
A blog friend sent me this song just a few days ago. It was written by a woman who was leaving a town she considered home for new adventures. It very well captures the myriad of emotions I've been having over the last few weeks. If you substitute Bonny Doon redwoods for the Illinois cornfields, well, you've pretty much got a song about me and this grand journey I'm about to take. I hope you'll give it a listen. Consider it my little gift to all of you on the Christmas morning.
I've been told by someone quite wise that life continues. It doesn't stop. I think I've been trying to make it stop so I won't have to take this giant leap into the unknown. But you know what? I am still breathing. My heart is still beating quite strongly. I am absolutely contained in a vessel of love and support. And I am taking that giant leap and I am trusting that I will land softly.
It's not forever. It's just goodbye.
