Two years ago this week Paul was offered the job that brought us to New York.
Obviously I remember those few days well. I took some days off of work, telling everyone that I was taking advantage of the free hotel room while Paul was in New York on business. He was here business-- but for an interview too.
We flew to New York on separate flights, so I was on my own for the entire day. I navigated the city buses and subway system from LaGuardia to Times Square, to Herald Square, to Washington Square Park. It was one of the hottest, most humid days I've ever experienced in New York, but I still wanted to take it all in. Paul felt good about his chances, but if he didn't get the job it would be awhile before I'd be back.
He was offered the job before noon the next day.
Even still I have trouble describing my elation. I like Ohio. I love Columbus. But we were moving to New York City. It seemed unthinkable that it was actually happening after months -- years -- of discussing, negotiating, dreaming. New York was 500 miles and a world away.
The day of Paul's interview, a tornado hit the neighborhood where we now live. That was also the day that my stomach began to swirl and barely stopped until we made the move two months later.