You know when people ask you to pick a number between one and whatever? I've always picked four. Honestly, as long as I can remember, I've always chosen four, or fourteen, or twenty-four. I'm one of four children in my family. The first and only move in my young life was at age four. The year I moved to San Diego I turned 44 (my husband was 55, and my mother-in-law 88...a bit of numerological synchronicity to consider another day) and it was one of the most blessed years of my life.
I was able to bring my job with me and work remotely for the first three years. I got married, enjoyed being a honeymooner, luxuriated in the sun and surf, and generally lived in gratitude for all the good food, and the love and support I have in this new place. But in many ways, I've been a tourist.
In April [the fourth month!], I'll begin my fourth year here and I'm noticing deepening roots and spreading branches. I'm launching house and garden projects to feather my nest, building spaces to nurture my creativity. I'm meditating and practicing yoga more often. We have a new website that wants to expand, and I started this blog...it's calling to the writer in me every day.
Year four is going to be excellent.
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