Plans were underway in our heads.  We had it all figured out and jolly guy and I were on cloud nine.  We were going to create a happy home, filled with love, family and of course make us both financially more stable.  I made a good living, he made a good living, we were going to be all set.  We finally told all the kids and my youngest daughter was really the only one that had an issue with it.  But such is life.  We enrolled my older daughter in school by jolly guy, got her residency set up and she would be living there while my youngest and I managed my house through the end of September.  Our plan was that I would finish off paying my bills, pay the last set that comes the month after you move where they try to nail you and then at the end of October, beginning of November jolly guy and I would split the household bills.  I wasn’t 100% keen on this idea only because at the time he made more money than me and I came to the table with bills such as a car payment and private school, but we were in this together so I complied.  Fine.  I explained the situation to my landlord and she was actually very receptive and helpful and didn’t try to screw me for breaking my lease.  I loved my house.  Have I mentioned that?  It was a three bedroom, two-story home with walnut molding and a brick fireplace and a screened in porch and back yard.  It had charm and character and it matched me perfectly.  It was the house I always wanted.  Not too big, not too small and affordable.  It was next door to one of my good friends and it held a ton of memories for me.  I was only there three years.  Three years that were not all good at all.  But that house represented what I could do if I put my mind to it.  It took me over ten years to get that house.  Once I divorced Gingham I lived in a rotten little town where I knew no one.  I built my life back then in the tiny town I had lived in for ten years.  I had the kids play sports going to catholic school and anything else I could do to keep that town in my sites as our “home” Once I divorced friend guy I had the opportunity to move into this house and I grabbed it.  I did it all by myself.  I had my things, my furnishings and the help of course of my close friends.  I had picked out all the colors and every ounce of that house was me.  And it made me very sad to start packing away that life.  The ten years of friends, the ten years of commitment to this town, essentially the longest relationship I had had with anyone other than my children.  I was somehow in my mind going through another divorce.  It was the end of an era in my mind and although I was so excited to start a life with jolly guy, I was scared.  Like really really scared.  Like into  my bones scared, but fear was not going to stand in my way.  I was embarking on a new adventure.  I was not ending my old life, but starting a new chapter.  I was recreating myself as a family and not as another single girl looking for love.  I had, in my own head, decided this was it.  And I was going to do anything and everything never to let it fall short.  Never to let it end.  Never to let anything get in the way of our happiness.  This move was bold of me.  It was out of character and it was not something I took lightly.  My girls thought I was nuts.  They asked numerous times, “But what if it doesn’t work out?  Then what?”  And my response was always the same.  “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.  We will be fine no matter what.  Do you trust me?  Have I ever not figured things out for us?  If the answer is yes, then trust me on this one.  I will figure it all out no matter what.”  At the time when those words were spoken, I could never have envisioned the sheer and utter boomerang effect they would have on our lives, but for now it was full steam ahead.

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