I havenít celebrated Saint Patrickís Day since I was about 22, rarely feeling like putting on the lone green t-shirt I own and fighting for bar space with 300 drunk guys (and that one girl whoís wearing a shiny leprechaun hat and a tube top. You know who she is.) But last night I met up with a few friends for a pint or three at a low-key (Belgian?) bar in Carroll Gardens, and had a lovely time on behalf of the good people of Ireland. Which technically, I suppose includes me, as my motherís family is Irish. And since my name is Molly Kathleen, it was probably a safe guess to assume Iíve got some luck oíthe Irish in me.
Em and Beck were there with their respective husbands, and Kent joined us after work, and we all had a damn fine time drinking and relaxing. Itís been snowing for the better part of two days, and there was something poetic about watching the fat, mid-March snowflakes settle on the streets around us as we walked home, huddled around cigarettes (not me Ė no ciggys for me). And when I got home I looked at Kent, and without me saying a word, he nodded and said, ďI know.Ē
I know, I donít want to leave either, he meant. I know, I love it here too, he meant. I know, our friends are amazing, he meant.
Kent applied for business schools and is in the end stages of the application process (final interviews), and thereís a good chance weíll be moving away from New York this fall. His top choices are Columbia and Harvard, and while Columbiaís curriculum is potentially better suited to his career, Harvard offers a lot of career leverage, because, well, itís Harvard. And I know this is all terribly boring and not of anyone elseís concern, but weíre looking at potentially moving to Boston in a few months, and I donít wanna go.
Boston is not far, and business school lasts only two years. But my life here has finally really settled into the full, rich, comfortable world Iíve always wanted. Iíve got a tight network of friends, I work with people I honestly respect and like, our apartment has become a home, we know our neighbors, etc. Weíll find friends and comfort wherever we go, of that I am certain. And in the meantime, for better or worse, we have each other. But Kent and I are really, truly happy. Happy here.
My parents were visiting this past weekend, and for the first night of their visit, I thought about how good it felt to be with them, and we had a lovely dinner at home (I cooked!), and I went to sleep feeling a little bit nostalgic and homesick. By about 11:00 a.m. the next morning, that feeling was gone. They are amazing, donít get me wrong Ė almost too amazing for me to keep up with, really. But the more time I spent with my parents, the more I realized that my life is MY life, and itís here. My life is no longer theirs, and vice versa. We are independent of one another, and we operate better that way. My family relationships are stronger because I, living 3000 miles away from everyone else, am stronger. Not a revolutionary thought, I know, but no less true than if it were.
And now I find myself feeling guilty, hoping that Kent will chose against Harvard so that I donít have to move and leave my friends. Selfish. Isnít that the whole point of marriage, that one partner supports the other, come sickness or business school? Whatís been hard for me is that Kent hasnít told many people that heís applied to schools, hoping to avoid all the ďhave you heard yet?Ē questions. I caved and told a few friends, because even though Iím not the one going to school, itís still a potentially life-changing decision for me as well, and dammit, I need to gab! Even if Kent goes to Columbia, things will change, and we might move uptown (welcome to New York, where another neighborhood might as well be another state!), and if heís in school, I will need to really, really find a proper job, in order to bring home at least some of the bacon.
So thatís what has been on my mind Ė loviní the friends, glad the parents are gone, wondering if Kent and I will have to pack up our lovely little life and head north this fall. Hard to say at this point what will happen. (Oh, and did I mention that I am a huge control freak and canít really deal with WAITING to be told what our options are?)
To pass the time (and escape the suddenly-artic weather), I am taking a mini-break to lovely Seattle in two weeks, where I will have the good fortune of meeting the lovely Chiara . I planned the trip so that I could visit my friend Jay, who is directing a show at a regional theater in Seattle, and meeting Chiara is the icing on that particular cake. I am forcing her to take me to Pikeís Market where we can ogle hot fish flingers and buy fresh produce and go to the flower market and be Ladies Who Lunch for a day. I canít wait.
In the meantime, hereís hoping spring makes a surprise appearance sometime soon, and that a little sun shines down on all of you.