Once Upon a Time…

Once Upon a Time…

welcometovermontThere was a single lucid moment in the month of May, 1993, when desperation fused with destiny and our dream to move to the mountains was winged.

Two weeks earlier, I lost our first baby at the end of the first trimester. Suddenly the good jobs, the benefits, the proximity to family, even the sea, lost its hold on us.

In one feverish week, we blanketed the Green Mountain State with our resumes, asking: Will you have us?

A lone school in a small town answered back.

Although its name lacked the kind of charm we’d hoped for (bringing to mind the huge metropolis in Delaware), we were relieved find Wilmington in our atlas in the southern most part of the state; which to our minds meant less winter. (We had yet to realize that Mount Snow was its closest neighbor.)

We spent the weekend before my interview at my husband grandmother’s place in Adams, Massachusetts. Over the years, we’d looked forward to our long weekends in the Berkshires, soaking up the view of Mount Greylock from Anna’s kitchen at the top of Anthony Street; and the occasional, flirtatious jaunts into nearby Vermont. While we never spent very long in the Green Mountain State, it stirred something inside us. Vermont was planting a seed.

That seed sat dormant until a handful of years later when my sister-in-law suggested we check out the hip town of Brattleboro. Though it wasn’t love at first sight, we did decide to drive across the state, on its southern most route, and came across  a quaint, snowy village with beautiful little shops.

“This is the kind of place we could live!” we both agreed, though we never looked any further into it, because when we returned home to the shore, another dream had been realized.

A simple two lines and our attention immediately shifted from adventure to nesting. We even began to look for a house at the beach, something we had long avoided for fear we’d never leave for the mountains. We put on our name on the home daycare waiting list. We found something called a midwife. I bought lots of books. My bought a stuffed bunny. My  mother in law a tiny pair of moccasins.

Thus I return to the beginning of this tale when one of the most excruciating losses of lives gave wings to a dream that keeps on giving.

The day that we pulled into town for my interview at Deerfield Valley Elementary, we had no recollection of ever seeing Wilmington before. Perhaps our minds were preoccupied with how much depended on this day. Perhaps the seasons here transformed everything. It was  a lush early June now, and it had been snowy February then. More than likely, it was also that our entire beings had been transformed in the sixth months since we’d passed through this place–at once thrust into the prospect of parenthood and all the space that this shapes, then abruptly regurgitated… back to the beginning, to start our lives anew.

We returned to Vermont with clear eyes.

Approaching Wilmington, this time from the west, our awareness moved from the village to the valley itself–greeted first by the Deerfield River whose strength is harnessed to provide energy for Vermont, and then by the great Harriman Reservoir where once the town of Medburyville thrived.

We felt the embrace of this narrow valley, cradled within its hillsides, its fields and woodlands. The welcome continued as we traveled up Route 100 to a greater expanse of sky and view, past the North Branch of the river in its quiet repose alongside the handsome Wheeler Farm.

Our broken hearts began to stir…

As we pulled into the parking lot at the school, we realized that we had seen it once before, many, many years earlier. We had even stopped to say how “right” it looked and how nice it would be to work a place like this, nestled in the woods as it was. My younger sister was at New England college at the time, and on one of trips up to the Berkshires, suggested we meet somewhere in between–to ski–at a place called Mount Snow.

There in the school parking lot among the trees and mountains and streams of Vermont, we broke into wondrous laughter. Fate’s hand played.

Despite 199 other applicants, I was hired. Soon after my husband and I settled into in a little farm house by the woods (an answer to another dream, long forgotten inspired by Laura Ingalls Wilder.)

A year later we conceived a child who became our first son.

We lived happily ever after…

Well, it wasn’t that simple.

There were realtors and bears and woodstoves, and lots and lots of snow.

And of course, there is always more dreams to dream and losses to bear.

But once upon a time, we asked Vermont if she would have us, and she resoundingly replied, “Yes!”


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5 thoughts on “Once Upon a Time…

  1. Dear Kelly,
    I love reading, Once Upon a Time. The mountiain story about beautiful Vermont, and having
    dreams come true. Please keep on writing.

    Like

  2. Kelly, That story couldnt have come at a better time for me. I have been struggling with the notion of moving to TN not only be closer to my parents but for a simpler, slower life with less struggle. The real estate is way way cheaper and the taxes are no comparison to what I pay here in PA. When I got laid off last March I felt relieved to be released from a life I had grown to hate. Traveling on the the train an hour each way to a job I had grown to despise. Here I am one year later, just last week took a new job and was so excited to get into a great company…I now realize after one week it was a GIGANTIC mistake. Not because I’m not qualified or cant do the work but because I feel like a caged rat and all those feelings I had prior to being laid off have now returned. Today was my melt down day..you know the type when you hear a friendly voice and the tears don’t stop. Everything is telling just go explore find something new. Its a simple decision. You can buy a house with an acre of ground for 30,000. sometimes less. Its a no brainer right?. What I could sell this house for, I could pay cash for a house and have some for savings and not have to struggle.

    Sorry for the rant but my point was maybe your story is my signal that “it is time to make a change” its time to pick myself up, dust myself off and start planning!

    Thanks for the inspiration I surely needed that today! As always I enjoy your stories they are awesome! 🙂

    Like

  3. kelly
    love your website.
    i’ve been seeking a way to jump start my creative mojo, since it was hushed a few years ago with a chronic disabling illness.
    i too am a jersey girl, born and raised. but now the kids are all grown and i must down-size. i wish a move somewhere cheaper could have the companionship of warmer weather, not mountains of snow.
    i enjoy your writing and will visit often…

    Like

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