By Emily Snedecor at Reasonably So

I just got home from 5 days in sunny San Francisco. I was welcomed back to Brooklyn by gray skies and rain. Lots of rain, chilly temperatures, and wind. Normally I don’t like the rain, but it is worse today than it has been since we moved here.

See, I really enjoyed Northern California. I had never been before, and I liked it as soon as I set foot outside the doors of the airport. Moderate temperatures, sunny skies, even the (sparse) rain was attractive. I could absolutely, in a heartbeat, see myself living in San Francisco. Frankly, I can see myself living anywhere people are friendly all the time and the sun shines brightly. I have envisioned myself living in Italy, North Carolina, Georgia (still haven’t been there, though!), Venice Beach, and now, San Francisco. Sure, New York has its moments, but whenever I travel I feel like I’m auditioning each city for a spot as my future home.

Friends of mine are scattered all over the country, some thousands of miles from their childhood homes, some back in their childhood homes. I have lived in a few different places, but all of them in a crooked line no longer than 400 miles along the Eastern Seaboard. Friends that graduated from high school and college when I did are already buying houses and making families (one friend just had her second child!). There’s a part of me that feels a pull to settle. Full disclosure: I’m 24 years old, in a happy and stable relationship of nearly four years, I’d like to be a mother someday, and I might want to end up back in Massachusetts. There’s another part of me that feels like someone is stepping on my tail while I’m still running forwards, legs spinning in circles like a cartoon.

While in San Francisco, I had a conversation with a friend about life after your kids grow up. He was pointing out that there’s lots of time to adventure between the ages of 45 and 60ish (our parents age). As soon as he said that, I started doing a little mental math. If I want to start some new adventures at 45, my kids will probably have to be grown up enough to handle it. That means I have to have had my kids at least 15 years prior to said adventures. Age 30. That’s 6 years from now. Did you hear that? Like a pop-fizzle of a tape self-destructing in its player? That was the sound of my head exploding. No worries, I’ll just set it out in the rain to cool off a bit.

Share this Post!