The Monterey Bay Mystery

We left the hotel without brushing our teeth. I was still in my pajamas, sobbing and breaking down. We threw all our clothes in the suitcase and headed home. We had plans for our last day of vacation in Monterey but I couldn't do it. I couldn't look at the beach for one more second. It hurt too much.

Just a few weeks before our trip, we had decided to move to Pacific Grove, the lovely slow beach town next to Monterey. We had been dreaming of moving there for years. I was scouring houses online, we figured the commute would be tough for Ronald, but doable. The ocean has always been my lifeblood and so it would be worth it. All the time we would spend apart, Ronald in the car and me on the beach, seemed manageable. 

We were so excited when we left the house for our overnight stay. We knew what neighborhoods we wanted to drive through and all the places to explore. We had already spent time on Yelp, planning what Starbucks and restaurants we would go to when we lived there. We looked into the school districts and crime statistics. The drive was the only struggle, but we could do it, or so we thought.

By the time we arrived at our hotel, I knew we couldn't do it. My gut and heart told me it was too much. That night in a dark-lit restaurant we talked about it and decided the move was a no-go. Too much time apart. I actually felt relieved. I can't believe I felt relieved.

The next morning we snuck a glass bottle of champagne onto the beach and had mimosas in the cool morning with the waves swaying. My heart broke. We went back to our room and I started to cry. I told Ronald I had to go home, right now. I had to go home. I couldn't bear it for one more moment. We rushed out and headed home and I cried for hours. 

I'm totally devastated. We may move there one day, but not now and it feels like another dream I thought would work out didn't. I'm shattered. I've had too many of these moments for one lifetime. Sometimes I wonder if my life is just about loss. Then I see Ronald and I know I have one good thing to lean on. One promise. Those pups are pretty good too.

Now we are regrouping and resting through the holidays. Perhaps next year we will sell our house (which I have hated for years even with all the renovations and design projects), and start something new. For now I'll cry.

1 comment:

  1. Oh dear love, my heart aches for you. It is terrible to lose a dream.


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