One day in March I had an impossible vision. In my mind's eye, out of the ether I saw myself packed into my silver Toyota wagon, my two beautiful kids in the backseat, with only what we could fit in the car. We were driving to an unknown destination. Permanently moving. Away from Wisconsin.

I laughed at the thought then because it was clearly not going to happen. Not even in the realm of remote possibility. Their father and I were recently divorced and our agreement was to share the placement of the kids 50/50. Which meant I would be living in Wisconsin for at least another 14 years because I knew there was no way in hell he was going to move. And on top of that, I was wearing the engagement ring that was given to me by a cowboy twice my age. It was all set.

But the feeling I had in that vision was hard to shake. It was as if I was floating in an alternate reality while time stopped. I smiled in my heart as the lightness of the departure spread across the screen of my mind. It was liberating. Dreamy. Downright SCANDALOUS in its audacious freedom.  But then the record scratched.  The image was gone as quickly as it came and I succumbed to reality, scoffing at my improbable, silly daydream.

Now it is June 29. 3 days ago I drove away from Wisconsin with my two beautiful kids and our chocolate lab, Simone, headed for the exciting adventure of a new life in Ohio near family. We sold and gave away everything except for the necessities in clothing, toiletries, and my children's most beloved toys, packed up the wagon and left. Singing the whole way.

The best part about letting go is that the more you let go of, the closer you get to flying.

To be continued . . .

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