The End of New England Shenanigans

When New England greeted me, it was cold, gusty, and unapologetically itself. My very first trip to the city was in May of 2021 to find a place to live. My wife and I made a point to go to a Red Sox game on our first night. The game had a rain delay, it was in the 30s, and we left before it was over because we were soaked to the bone. We moved in on Fourth of July Weekend, and it was in the low 60s, and the city proceeded to set a record for monthly rainfall. I was left wondering if I’d ever settle into the city and a climate that was so foreign to me.

Eventually, New England relented. A mild summer peaked through before July was done, followed by a beautiful August-November - the type of weather you dream of as a Texan who knows the scorn of triple-digit heat in October. That winter was harsh, by my standards, but survivable. Our first spring is a period that will stay with me for life. I’ve never seen that many flowers on trees. In the subsequent years, New England has been kind. We’ve navigated the weather, explored every state in the region (New Hampshire is my favorite state up here, in case you were wondering), and made memories with friends and family that I will always hold dear.

I’m getting ready to leave New England, but going with so much more than when I arrived. The degree I came to earn has been put to bed for over a year, and I recently celebrated my colleagues and their 2025 graduation from the bleachers. I’ve earned a job and a chance to do what I’ve always wanted: provide opportunities for the next generation of music students and help pave a path forward. Finally, and most importantly, we are leaving with a beautiful daughter and a chance to raise a family in a great part of the country.

April and May of this year have been the familiar cold that greeted us four years ago. I’m composing this while a Nor’easter pounds the city with a chilling rain. I’ve been off and on under the weather the last few months. The end to this tenure hasn’t been all the things I’ve necessarily wanted it to be. All that said, I think big change is disruptive. Moving from a place you know to a place without roots is not without its pain.

My brother visited us this weekend for the last time in our Boston apartment. He’s been in Vermont for nearly as long as we’ve been here, and it has been a blessing. When Olivia came two weeks earlier than anticipated, he was here within a few hours to watch the dog and be a support in case it was needed. He and I walked 26.2 miles around the city in the summer of 2022, and 30 miles in 2023. His visit this weekend included less walking, but the conversations and time spent are still special to me. I was sad dropping him off at South Station this morning, but some great visits and beautiful trails in North Carolina await us in the future.

Not pessimistically, but realistically, I know this move will be challenging. The upcoming change has unsettled my spirit, and that will likely not resolve for months, or even a full academic year. This summer will be over in a blink, and a full fall semester will take its place. This is not unlike the move here to Boston. I’ve felt this way enough to know that the anxiety is really just excitement over all the great that is set to spring forth. As my daughter gains her footing and will soon walk, I know we too will gain our footing and get to enjoy the memories to come.