Late next week I'm flying to California to visit Rob and look for a place to live, and once again the timing has slapped me in the face with a weird mixture of excitement, sadness, and nostalgia. 

A year ago Rob and I were traveling to California for a trip that was half vacation and half work, which I was super excited about because it was the first time I had managed to come up with a project that included sponsored travel. We left Charlotte, still not totally feeling at home (although we had made some friends and I felt uneasy leaving Ender for a full week). It was muggy and hot, just as it is this week, and I drank a glass of prosecco and ate a spicy tuna roll in the airport while we waited to board our flight to San Francisco.

We got off the plane and immediately felt refreshed--it was windy and cool and sprinkling the finest little mist of rain into our faces on the sidewalk as we looked around for our Uber, wrapping our sweaters around us more tightly.

Our first California weekend was spent in San Francisco, slowly exploring for a few days on our own before we headed up to Sonoma to work on a few things with La Crema. I'll always remember that trip, but the part I never, ever want to forget is the weekend afterward, when we returned to San Francisco and spent our last few days with friends from Roanoke. By that point, Rob was completely enamored with the Bay Area and I saw him light up when we visited our friend Jordan at work and got a tour of what seemed to me to be the quintessential example of a Bay Area tech startup.

We tagged along with Jordan at his apartment before meeting more friends for dinner. The next day we sat cross-legged on the living room floor around his coffee table, eating eggs and white rice and drinking coffee from a Chemex. The city felt like it was just waiting for us, and I think that even after a year, it still is. We stopped for more coffee and shopped around in sweet little boutiques here and there before heading to the Ferry Building to meet Logan and Jillian, our friends from the night before. 

"What should we do?" someone asked, and without much hesitation Jillian spoke up with an enthusiastic suggestion that we catch a ferry to Sausalito for the afternoon. So that's exactly what we did.

I will remember forever the way it felt to sit on the rocky shore of Bar Bocce with a glass of rosé in my hand and look out at the water, wondering what could be next for us. So much of our move to Charlotte was based on not wanting to move again, on wanting to be done exploring new homes and making new friends, but here I was sitting on the opposite side of the country on a beach with the wind in my hair and sun in my eyes and people I felt like I had known forever by my side, and I didn't feel like I was that far away from "home," whatever that might be.

We spent the afternoon laughing and drinking and ended up back in the city that night with beers and pizza in the park as the sun set. The next day we were flying back to North Carolina, so we hugged everyone again and as we said our goodbyes I remember saying "we'll be back, we'll be back."

And even if I didn't know it at the time, I really did mean it.

We signed the first two-year lease of our lives and later that exact same day, someone emailed Rob about a dream job in California that he had applied for in November. The timing felt like a slap in the face, and I resented myself for dreading what I knew would end up turning into a job offer. We had planned to stay in Charlotte, probably for good, and settle down, continue to nurture the wonderful friendships we've made here, have kids, stay close to our families, easily make weekend trips to Virginia or South Carolina.

But the opportunity was great, and after a few calls, an offer was made. Rob and I talked about nothing else for days, and finally we decided that it wasn't something we could pass up. My heart felt broken--one half was overflowing with pride for my husband and his work, and the other half was, honestly, straight up devastated. I thought about the new friends, coffee shops, hair salons, and doctors I'd have to find again. When we moved to Charlotte I thought okay, this is it. And I put down roots for the first time in a long time.

When we left for Minnesota, I was ready for something new. I looked at it as an adventure, and I was excited to make the move. This time, it felt less exciting, but over time Charlotte became our home--I have friends here and a coffee shop where the baristas recognize me. We're regulars at several restaurants and on Friday nights the manager shakes Rob's hand as we walk back to our table on the patio. I teach SkillPop classes every month and when I miss my mom one of us drives only three hours to see the other.

But Rob and I are 26 and 27, respectively. We don't have kids yet, and in so many ways we are still so young. Now is the time. I still feel overwhelmed about it, but after a few weeks I realized that, as usual, my reservations were rooted in fear. At the age of only 27, I had lost my sense of adventure and replaced it with a need for consistency, even if it got in the way of dreams coming true.

So for now, until September, Rob is doing a lot of traveling back and forth between North Carolina and California. And then, probably right around the time summer is winding down, we'll pack up and head west.

I wrote most of this post in April, when we had just made the decision. Since then I've found myself feeling more and more enthusiastic about starting a new adventure. 

"I just want to be normal," I told my friend Daci a couple of months ago, as I tried to figure out if I was excited or scared. I didn't want to keep moving every year or two. I didn't want to constantly have to make new friends and miss my old ones. I wanted to be able to hop in the car and see my brother. And yet, I want more for us. I want Rob to be happy at work. I want us to both be able to chase our dreams and create exactly the kind of life we've always imagined, because it's out there for the taking.

"You have plenty of time to be normal," Daci said.

I think she's right. California, here we come.