Firsts and Lasts: Saying Goodbye to California

When my ten-year-old son got braces last year, he started to mark all his “firsts” while wearing his braces, the way you mark firsts in a baby book. Now that our move to Minnesota is less than two weeks away, we are becoming aware of “lasts” in California, and are getting nostalgic for a place we haven’t even left yet.

Go to the Beach!

 

My "lasts" include dinner out in Pasadena, my last trip to Hollywood, and seeing my last Glendora High School performance. A friend of mine said I should go to the beach one last time. I probably will, but I refuse to consider this move a “goodbye,” it’s just a “till-we-meet-again.” Since my husband’s been traveling for work a lot lately, we've been forced to stay connected electronically. Except for the fact that he doesn’t come home at night, it hardly seems like he is gone at all. (Oh, well, there's also the sex, and the companionship, and his help with the dishes, and the home repairs, and his flying remote control airplanes with our son, but other than that it’s like he never left!). So I’m hoping our friends and family will take advantage of modern technology to keep in touch. “Out of Sight” doesn’t have to mean “Out of Mind” in today’s world of texting, LinkedIn, Twitter, Skype, Facebook, Pinterest, Good Reads, etc. Did I miss any? Oh yeah, the good old-fashioned telephone or God forbid—a letter—you know snail mail.

The Great Giveaway:  “Do You Want Some Mustard with That?”

If you are planning to come over to say goodbye, be forewarned that you will leave with something—an old white elephant gift that was never opened, plants the movers won’t take, hamster houses (the first hamster died shortly after my son received his Pet Care belt loop in Cub Scouts), condiments, etc. The mustard jars seem to be reproducing at an exponential rate in our refrigerator, so bring your hot dogs and we’ll have a barbecue, or maybe make some Jackson Pollock splatter art with it.

The Seven Stages of Moving

Forget anger, denial, bargaining, etc., the stages in moving are Excitement, Fear, Anxiety, the Shopping-for-Sub-Zero-Temperatures stage; the Making-Your-Husband-Finally-Get-Rid-Of-the-Bachelor-Decor stage; the Making-New-Friends-Right-Before-You-Leave stage; and the They-Love-Me-They-Really-Love-Me-Sally-Field stage where you realize you will be missed more than you thought.

 

"I Wish I Had Done That!"

Along with enjoying my lasts, comes the I-Wish-I-Had-Done-Thats. I wish I had gone to the Rose Bowl Parade, or gone on a Star Tour in Hollywood, or gone on a gondola ride in Long Beach. My only consolation is that now I can be a tourist when I come back to California for visits, and I can be a tourist in my new city too. They even have gondola rides on the St. Croix River!

Ten Days and Counting

 

With just ten more days left in California, we’re getting to the nitty gritty details. I’ve registered my son in his new school, applied for a dog license, set my auto insurance to cancel, submitted a change of address with the post office, notified the landlord, booked a flight and mandatory vet check for the dog, and submitted the last Cub Scout advancement paperwork. I have had going away breakfasts, lunches, and dinners, twice with some family members, so that now there is nothing left to do but leave. It’s bittersweet. We’re looking forward to our new adventure, but will never forget the love and generosity of our family and friends. Sniff, sniff.