And in the 16th year of Nicholas’ new normal, New England called us back.
Twenty-one months after my big brother’s fall from a tree, subsequent traumatic brain injury, and with my parent’s blessing, I moved from Massachusetts to Colorado. There was always an expectation that I’d come home when and if I was needed, and history will show that I* have done this, willingly.
However, I always knew there would be a time that I’d need to move home or be asked to move back. To be physically present. To help more. To be more available. For my brother, for my parents, for my sister. Then, while I was in Colorado the “I” became a “we” and Jon and I took on the reality of having our families back in New England together. The irony of choosing to move to Vermont during a pandemic when I can’t actually help my parents or my brother is not lost on me. Here we are, three hours away and a world apart.Continue Reading