Back in October, when My Boyfriend and I decided to finally give our relationship a go, there was no doubt we would eventually move back to Our Hometown in California. I don’t think we even discussed it. It just was understood. After all, it was where we met, all those years ago in high school, and we adored the town. We both still had tons of friends there, my mom was there, and the rest of my family was close by.

The only thing was – when we began planning the move, the thought of actually leaving NYC terrified me.

The friends I’d made, they were truly my East Coast Family. I couldn’t imagine being without them, meeting for last minute happy hours or brunches, catching up on the critical details of our lives. My cute little apartment, with it’s exposed brick wall and five points of outdoor light that kept it bright and airy even on the darkest thunderstruck days. My fun neighborhood where I’d wave to the shopkeepers on my way to the subway each morning. My company – a place I loved going to, a place I’d laughed probably more than anywhere else. And there was my new role. I’d only been in it for four months so I really needed more time and experience before I could feasibly look for a new job in a new location.

My lease turned over every year in May but I felt like seven months was too soon to make such a big move. It made my stomach cave in on itself to even think on it.

So we decided on May 2016.  Nineteen months. That seemed the right amount of time for me to build my resume, and for both us to say goodbye to our friends and respective cities.

So it was settled. We’d move in May of 2016.

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