I was driving to work this morning and I was letting my mind wander to five years from now. Of course anything could happen; I know this. But say I had the fortune of everything running smoothly in my life—what would I see myself doing? Hmmm…
Anyone who knows me, knows how restless I am. We don’t know the reason why, but merely accept that I don’t like the grass growing too long beneath my feet. And another five years would put me ten years total in my current house. TEN YEARS!! Okay, that scared me. Ten years? Have I stayed anywhere for longer than seven? Seven year itch, right?
Then I thought, three of my children will have graduated school—one even from college. OMG. That leaves only two. Two? That seemed like nothing. Who knows how to cook for only four? I could even trade in my glorious, rockin’ minivan for a real vehicle. I’ve already gotten rid of all the car seats. But, I digress. So there I was driving and thinking and I realized I wanted to move. Really move. Like in out of state. I’ve always wanted to. Why not? So there it is. There’s my “what will I be doing in five years?” plan. It might take six, but no more than that.
I was so excited with the thought of a change. I worked all day with a serene smile on my face, and came home tonight and announced it. I told my 9 and 7 year olds that we would indeed not be seeing them graduate from the county where we currently resided. They could’ve cared less. Whatever. I suppose they think I’m all talk, or perhaps they don’t care at the moment. After all, what does five years mean to them? Luckily, it means all the time in the world. To me—it’s a blink of the eye.