It was October when he bluntly told me he was ready to move on from Choteau. It was then he told me he had heard of a great job opportunity in Orgeon and that he was going to apply and see what happens.
It was nearly a solid year ago that he asked for my support as he embraced the idea of moving, again, this time likely away from Montana. It was in November of last year that we, as a family, traveled to Eugene, Oregon. Dylan interviewed for the emergency room job that he was just certain he needed. It took only a day for Dylan to be offered the job. As we drove the thirteen hours back to Choteau I attempted to wrap my mind around moving my family, moving my kids, away from everything and everyone that we knew and loved.
Only days after returning from Oregon we decided we were going to sell our house and at the end of the school year we were going to move to Eugene. I tried to remain supportive and positive as we listed our beloved farm log home. I really tried to believe what I was whispering to myself, “a fun new adventure! Lucky us!” Only a few times I found myself big fat ugly crying in my pasture looking back on a dream that had only just come true.
In just five days we received an offer on our house and it was really happening. We were really selling our home and moving away, far away. I sold all of my goats. My chickens went to a friend and Mariah, our horse would live out her life on her farm with the new owners. For weeks our belongings sat in boxes. We left out only what we needed. Everything that makes a house a home was packed away.
In May, Dylan and I travled to Eugene to search for a new house. Eugene was beautiful. Rivers run right through town and every inch was green and covered in spring blossoms. After looking at houses for 48 hours we were left feeling discouraged, empty and lost. It was in a coffee shop on the morning of the third day that we whole heartily agreed that this gigantic change did not feel like the right thing to do. The job was right, but Eugene would not be our home and we couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling insides that coming to Eugene would be life’s grand mistake.
We returned home to our kids and broke the good news that we were not moving to Eugene. Montana was home and Montana is where we needed to stay. Although still devastated to be leaving Choteau, Addi and Landon were as excited to hear our news as we were telling them.
With no backup plan and no idea what would be next for our family, for the first time in months I could finally breath. I exhaled and all the weight I had been carrying had suddenly evaporated.
Until a new plan presented itself we arranged a short term rental in Choteau and in June, through tears and unlimited questions of why, we said goodbye to our home. We moved ourselves and our necessities into a little house on the creek. We spent the first weeks of summer bike riding to the ice cream shop, throwing sticks in the creek and daydreaming of once again being home. The kids uttered thoughts like, “I don’t like this place.” “This ‘rentalled’ house isn’t our home.” “Why can’t we just go home?”
Near the end of July, when Dylan accepted a job in Hamilton, just 50 miles from hometown Missoula, I was overjoyed. We literally would be going home. Thursday dinners with Papa would be a reality again. Dave and Em’s boys, Fish-Face and baby Jack would know and of course crave their Auntie B. My sisters would offer to babysit and Grandma and Grandpa would be only a phone call away. It was perfect.
So I dreamed.
After only a Saturday of house hunting we found another dream property tucked into the middle of the Bitterroot Valley. Nine acres of pristine farm land just begged for me to make good on my mini-farm dream. We made an offer and as quickly as we sold our first farm we were buying another one.
Life again seemed to make sense. Yes, we were leaving our beloved Choteau, but in no time we would be settled into our new life.
After about five short days of training in Hamilton Dylan’s elation was replaced with anguish. Through rolling eyes and chills of annoyance all I could offer was, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Papa graciously invited us to live with him until we closed on our new house the first of October. We had barely unpacked at Papa’s house. The boxes still sat stacked in the garage and Dylan was telling me this new job was not going to work.
It was planned for Addi to start school the first week of September in Stevensville, just down the dirt road from ‘our house’. We joked she’d actually be able to ride her horse to school. It was probably not a joke in her mind! Soccer lessons were penned in on the calendar and Addi had begun gymnastic training at a new gym.
We lived in Helena once before. Dylan’s first job out of school was in Helena. For about two years we lived there. Do you remember that time, almost five years ago, when I was blessed with a second pregnancy. After only a couple months of living in Helena we learned that Addi was going to be a big sister and I was going to get to be a mama again. I was thrilled. Not long into the pregnancy we learned Landon was sick. With over 1/2 of my pregnancy left they told me my baby would die. I would have to say goodbye to him even before he could hear me tell him that I loved him. Some of the worst days of my life happened when we lived in Helena and if you try and tell me that an ordinary stay-at-home mama cannot experience PTSD, then I’ve a few words for you. For me Helena = My Living Hell and as irrational as it may sound to you and to Dylan, I did not want to ever live in Helena again.
A week ago Dylan confronted me and flat out informed me that he would not and could not continue this job anymore. He would be getting out of our house deal and he had been speaking to a women in Helena about a different job. He couldn’t possibly purchase a house and then be ‘stuck’ in a horrible job in order to pay for it. Helena wanted him and he was ready to go. Immediately.
If were not going to be living in Stevensville then I had to get Addi enrolled in a school in Missoula. They had already started a week prior. In reaction to panic (as all great parenting moments are made of) I marched down to the nearest school and asked if they had a spot for my brilliant, sweet 2nd grader. The next day she started down the road from my dad’s house. Now, today, she’s adjusted and happy. She’s back to her daily routine and looks forward to her weekly activities. She isn’t riding a horse to school, but she is riding her bike and she loves being so close.
“Are you ‘bleepity’ kidding me?”
It’s been a long week. There’s been a lot of tears and a lot of desperate soul searching. How could he ask me to move again? How could he ask Addi to say goodbye to more friends and another school? How could he? I mean how bad could a job be that such a drastic reaction be the only way?
Starting next week he will begin training for his brand new and shiny job in Helena. My plan is (and its hilarious to me that I am still making plans, because it never turns out the way I plan) the kids and I will remain in Missoula until Dylan is absolutely certain this is where he will want to stay. Until we have a home, a real permanent home to move into, I AM NOT moving my kids again.
Is moving to Helena ideal? Is it all I ever asked for? Am I confident and secure in these last few months, that we are making wise and sound decisions for ourselves and our children? Really, really no….
All I want in the whole world is to be home.
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