I Blew My Chance

So I got to thinking the other night, I totally gave up the chance to move to San Francisco.

See, SF is where Sean and I went on our honeymoon, and we fell in love. With the city. We were on that post-wedding high, so we made big plans for Sean to go to law school out West. Ahh, yes, it would be the life. But the reality was, it's a long, long way away from family, it's expensive, and--oh yeah--I needed a job. I totally chickened out. Sean would've gone, but I freaked.

But now, I think we should've done it. When else could we go so far and be so free. Eh, that's a little hokey, but you get the idea. If someone could promise us jobs that paid above the poverty line and guarantee me that the move was for a finite amount of time--say a year or two or even three--I'd be packed tomorrow.

And, so far, Sean and I have followed the path my parents did. Live in Georgia; get married; move to B'ham; move to Cali, have me; go back home. It's kind of like we have to do it, right?