While living in NC for 14+ years, my husband and I would pack up the fam and make the 8 hour trek home at least twice a year and sometimes more often. On the way north, we eagerly awaited the chance to be greeted by the Monongahela River which flows under a bridge somewhere near Morgantown, WV. Without fail we would shout “Hello, Mon!” – I know, super corny. At that point in the trip we could get a signal from WDVE and it was as if we never left.
Our trips back to NC were always bitter sweet. It became a tradition to discuss moving back while we drove through WV, VA and most of NC. Eventually, it was almost as if we were reading from a script debating the pros and cons of the issue. The discussion always ended in a draw – although we both missed our hometown, it probably wouldn’t work out. Then we would go back to our day to day existence and look forward to the next trip ‘home’ and the next lament-filled trip back to Charlotte.
That is until our last trip in July. Nursing a hangover from a party (what can I say, I’m a lightweight) with high school friends and former teachers while my husband drove and tried to keep the kids quiet, I heard the faint beeping of a text message. Summoning all the strength I had left from trying not to puke in his car, I leaned over to check my phone. It was a 412 number I didn’t recognize right away. It said, “chk fb wn U gt hm.” Thinking there was an embarrassing pic from the party posted, I used my newly acquired skills to check Facebook Mobile right then. There was a message from one of my former teachers (Hi, Pete!) –
“ESL position at Chatham College in PG today. You would be perfect for it.”
When I was sure the boys were sleeping, I mentioned it to my husband. I figured that it would be the beginning of our usual sadness laced dialogue about how we should move back to the ‘Burgh but really couldn’t do it. Instead, the new script had just one line:
“I think you should apply for it!”
And so started our journey back to Pittsburgh.