Happy Caliversary

Five years ago, on this very day, a very worn out Honda Pilot pulled up to the Rosewood Tavern (the nickname of the house we live in) filled with the most precious and essential belongings.  The driver, a tired, single mom of two, the copilot, a strong, caring 8th grade boy and the backseat passenger, a courageous, 7th grade spitfire too much like her mama.  

We arrived late that evening, unloaded as much as we could and settled in for the night as quickly as possible because the next day, I would begin "new" teacher orientation at a school district that had offered me a job just 10 days earlier.  

We really did hit the ground running when we arrived and California came for us, hard.  I felt like I had been kicked in the stomach.  For the first few months, the punches kept coming and for a brief moment I thought I had made a terrible mistake.  I had left behind friends, family, a great job and my cat.  I had relocated this tight triad for a better life, a happier, calmer, no need to look over my shoulder life.  Was I going to have to go back home, feeling like a failure?  Nope.  I would do whatever I had to and I did and it sucked and it was hard and I cried, a lot.  I pulled myself up from my bootstraps and came out swinging!

But today, we celebrate the ups and downs of our journey.  The driver is still a tired, mom of two, the copilot is now embarking on his own journey as an NYU freshman and the little spitfire is driving herself into her senior year.  Oh and we also get to share this crazy life with a wonderful man we all know as Louie.  He's one of a kind, a gem, most of the time, and I am sure there are a handful of people that wonder how the hell he puts up with the big, full life we live.  Ask him.  I bet the answer is a good one.

Happy Caliversary, my loves!


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