I went to Ridge Road Station today after I dropped Arianna off for Judo. I wanted to get a specific gift for a friend. Ostara was napping loudly in the backseat; the poor thing has had a cold all week that hasn’t been very kind to her. I thought about going up to Lomond Shores to see our beautiful lake house that we sold right before Ostara was born. It was the first house Andrew and I bought and it was beautiful albeit small. A beautiful half-acre lot on Lake Ontario on a quiet, dead end street. Most of our neighbors were snowbirds who left for warmer climes in the winter months. The house was actually a renovated cabin with two additions on the front and back with luxurious skylights with a huge great room with tiered deck overlooking the lake. I have to admit, when I first entered the house and saw the amazing view from the door, my very first thoughts were, “Wow, this is a nice house. I don’t deserve this.” Sad, but true. Andrew bought it, sight unseen, with just the photos I brought back. It was like a dream come true for us. We spent seven happy years there, three with Arianna. But after we started our family, it felt pretty lonely out there. I remember Arianna never got sick the first two years of her life because we never made contact with other people. When I was pregnant with Ostara, we knew our two bedroom house with no bathtub wouldn’t work with two children. It was also difficult financially when we dropped down to one income so I could stay at home to nurse and nurture Arianna. Andrew was growing weary of the 45 minute commute, although at first when we moved from D.C., it didn’t seem long at all.

I make the turn to start going the last 10 miles to the lake and all of a sudden, I stopped the car. I couldn’t do it. I joyfully said goodbye to that house two years ago and what good would it do me to go back now? What would I say if my old neighbors saw me, which they were bound to, because the road is so small and desolate. How would I feel when I saw someone else in my house? How would I react when I saw the lake again? I remember how I deliberated about moving. One sunny summer day, I slipped down to the lake and sat at the water’s edge. I felt the water cool between my toes and I looked out over the vast expanse of lake that had become my backyard, my solace, my home. I wanted to cry. How could I live apart from such beauty? How could I sell my little piece of paradise? How could I ever leave this lake? “Lake, you don’t want me to leave you, right? We have a special connection, you and I.” Very clearly, I heard this reply, “I don’t care what you do.” I was taken aback. Well, that took the wind right out of my sentimental sails. She was right. I was nothing to the lake and she supported so much life within her vastness, how could I think that I was more important than all of that life that truly needed her. After that little reality check, I was ready to sell. When we finally closed and had to move out, I was worried that I might get cold feet and have major regrets. As we drove down the road, I smiled about the new direction our family was heading in and I never looked back.

Remember what the Wizard told the Cowardly Lion: “You, my friend, are a victim of disorganized thinking. You are under the unfortunate impression that just because you run away you have no courage; you’re confusing courage with wisdom.” I guess it’s good that I can’t look back or try to lay claim to something that is no longer mine. I still feel like a coward though.