Home Again
After the lovely visit with our relatives in New York, we returned to San Jose. Was I feeling dejected? Disappointed? Yes. Yes, I was. After all, we experienced another fruitless search for a place to live.
No time to wallow. There was so much to do. Thanksgiving was over and it was time to prepare for Christmas. And write some more, of course.
In the meantime, I started the process of searching for an agent to represent my books. I didn’t start writing with the intention of publishing, but half way through the process, I became so in love with the characters and with the story that I wanted to share it with others. Maybe the story would matter to someone? Maybe it would touch them? Maybe even just one person? That would be enough to make it worth the effort. Though that is the truth, I must admit that I wouldn’t mind if it actually meant something to a lot of people and supplemented my income, too!
Sadly, my research indicated that finding an agent could take one to two years, so I got the process started right away, diligently sending queries to carefully-selected agents. (Time will tell how long my patience lasts in this process. As we have already established, I don’t do well with waiting…self-publication is looking better and better. Bets on if I can make it to the one-year mark?)
I shopped. I worked. I thought. I wrote. I queried. I shopped some more (it was the holidays, after all). I came to a few realizations.
At this point in my life, a search for the idyllic home locale might be a bit ambitious. Or, to be more precise, I might have been putting the cart before the horse. My eldest would be going off to college. My youngest would be going into sixth grade. I needed to be somewhere that he could get a decent education. I needed to make enough money to be comfortable and also afford a college tuition. As the clock ticked down to adulthood for my eldest (yoinks!), it became clearer and clearer. I didn’t want to move far from the bay area. At least not yet. The farther away I moved, the farther I would be from my eldest, who decided that he would remain in the bay area regardless.
I came to another realization. As I wrote my story about family and a close-knit community, I realized how much I wanted that. I spent so many years feeling sorry for myself and secluding myself. Yes, I was an introvert and always would be, but that didn’t mean I should continue with my reclusive ways. Hell, I was half way to becoming a full-fledged hermit! I wanted to be closer to the rest of my family, too. Granted, I had family scattered all over the place, but I wanted to be close to my mom, in particular. The woman has wanted me to move closer to her since the day I left for San Jose State in 1993. Of all the people I knew, she pushed me the most to get out of my bubble and face the world. I needed that. Plus, I thought that she might need me, too, though in different ways.
Now, let’s talk jobs. I have never taken my job for granted since the day of my interview three years ago. I met with my boss and explained my time limitations, my extreme physical limitations, and my stipulation that if my back ever went out again, I wasn’t sure when I’d be back on my feet. Her response? “We’re so happy to have you! You’re hired.” I always felt damn lucky to have the job I had, mainly because of how flexible they were with me and my physical limitations, but also because they just…cared! Honestly! My boss actually cared that I was healthy and well! I mean, sure, she would always ask me to give as much as I could, but would always respect when I set boundaries. Always. Did I really want to give that up?
When it came down to it, there was one logical choice. A best-fit place to call home for this stage of our lives. A place close to family. A place that moved me farther from work and some friends, but not so far that I couldn’t continue to work and see friends as usual. A place I used to call home. A beautiful place with weather I could stand.
The boys and I had a long talk about it, and everyone seems content. When Christmas Day came around, we announced it to our whole family: we would be moving to Mom’s townhouse in Foster City. Everyone cheered, seemingly happy that the move brought us closer to them. Mom cried. Seeing her tears of joy, I knew it was the right choice.
It’s not a perfect place. Cost-wise, it is going to be about what we face in San Jose, but not as costly as it would have been without the “friends and family discount” my mom offered us. Traffic is bad like in San Jose. It is also over-populated like San Jose, though it is a much smaller town. However, it’s cooler, being so close to the bay. It is beautiful, and sure to provide me with more inspiration for upcoming books. My mom will be very close. One of my sisters and her family lives just minutes away. My boys already have friends in the area, due to all of the time they have spent visiting my mom’s church over the years. I can keep my job. I can continue writing, of course, and see what I can make of myself.
So, that’s that, and I’m at peace with the decision. I’m going home. Though I grew up in San Mateo, I lived in Foster City for a couple years when I was a teenager. Actually, the city always has and always will remind me of my dad. We lived together for a year, just the two of us, in an apartment facing the water. Then he and Mom bought a townhouse when I was a senior in high school. They lived there together until he passed away in 2001, just weeks before we discovered I was pregnant with my first son.
When we were kids, my dad used to have little random sayings or parts of songs that he would spout out. He was kooky that way. Whenever we were traveling home from a trip, long or short, he used to say, “Home again, home again, jiggity-jig.” I have no idea what that’s from or what the hell a jiggity-jig is, but as I was writing the title to my final entry in this series, the thought of my dad brought a huge smile to my face. I can even see him grinning his wide, gap-toothed grin as he said it.
When we pull into the driveway for the first time next month, I’ll be sure to weird my kids out with the same random phrase. “Home again, home again, jiggity-jig.”
