This move didn’t come out of the blue, not entirely.
Jen’s situation, up until Thursday, May 31, was this:
5:45am: Wake up, nurse Julian, shower, dress, and get ready for work. Nurse Julian again and then …
6:40am: Head out the door to catch the bus to the Providence train station.
7:12am: Catch the MBTA Providence-line commuter rail to Boston South Station. Walk from there to her office.
4:30pm: Leave work, walk back to South Station, and catch the Providence line. On a day in which everything worked as planned, she’d get in at 6:10.
6:10pm: Arrive at Providence Station, grab a bus home.
6:40pm: Walk in the door, nurse Julian.
On a day in which everything worked as planned, Jen was gone 12 hours a day, every day. (And yes, strangely, it was always almost exactly 6:40am – 6:40pm. Just the way it went.) Twelve hours out of the house, to work an 8-hour day (8:30 – 4:30). With a nursing baby at home. A late train, a missed bus, or even worse, a broken-down train would throw all of that off.
One night, she got home at nearly 9pm.
I don’t want to talk right now about why we discounted the idea of moving to Boston. In brief, Jen’s lived there and didn’t want to move back permanently, for a number of very good reasons.
So we started looking at other options. We thought very seriously about moving to the D.C. area for a long time. Jen’s brother is there, with his wife and daughter and soon-to-be son. Jen’s parents hope to relocate there after selling their house. Being close to at least one family would be helpful.
But Jen had a great job in New York. We didn’t leave New York because she was unhappy at work, far from it. So earlier this year, we started thinking, What if she could get back in there? A new job that’s also an old job would solve a lot of problems, and make any move a lot easier.
So Jen floated the idea, with the manager of the New York office of her old law firm, and also the managing partner of that office, to whom she used to report. They were in.
So we scheduled a trip down to New York, in February and got the ball rolling.
Then the ball came to an abrupt halt. I shouldn’t talk much about what happened between February and the Friday before Memorial Day, except to say that we had a false start on a New York move. And when the ball stopped rolling, we thought it had stopped rolling for, at the very least, months, if not a year.
So we made plans to move to that cute, charming two bedroom on Westminster, across from Fertile Underground.
And then shit got real.