When Michigan stopped being home

Crying, I stared out the front porch window of my parent's cottage. It was days before I moved to Colorado and I remember telling my dad I was scared and nervous about leaving all that was familiar to me. He rubbed my shoulder, looked out at the lake with me and said "This is your time.  This is your future and your family, it's not mine anymore.  I'd keep you if I could, but that isn't how life works.  Go to Colorado and start your life."

Lake view from my parent's cottage

It's a funny thing, to let go of the traditions and experiences of your childhood and embrace your own life, your own family.  There is a struggle inside us that wants to hold on to everything we did and experienced growing up, but also the urge to leave. As much as we fight and want to be independent growing up, the second we have the chance to breakaway on our own, there is this pull that keeps us  returning home.

This summer marks the first time I won't be going back to Michigan, by choice.  There have been years when we financially couldn't swing it, but this summer Michael and I are choosing to keep our family here on the front range. We are choosing to use our travel budget to camp with our kids throughout the west.

The pull to return to Michigan, has lessened.

For 11 years I've struggled to find my place between Colorado and Michigan. As Much as I love my home, I've never fully let go of the idea of having all of my memories continue and be created in Michigan.

I want summers boating at my parents cabin.  I want camping in the U.P. and hiking to Tahquamenon falls.  I want Frankenmuth festivals. I want the spectacular Christmas mornings at my parent's house that my mom and dad made possible. 

But, I also want to continue to explore and embrace the roots of my children, and their roots are here in Colorado.

It took until this summer for me to realize that my happy childhood memories are embedded in the quality time and vacationing I experienced with my parents and sisters, not from Michigan alone. What I love most about my childhood, is that my parents dedicated time to us and encouraged us to exploring new places and push boundaries.

The Savard girls camping

I've always planned trips "home" or that revolved around the memories of my childhood; but now is not the time for my childhood. Now is the time for the childhood memories of Beckett, Brooks, and Eliza.  I have three Colorado natives, and it would be a disservice to them if I didn't embrace that.

This doesn't mean we won't return to Michigan for holidays and trips, but it also doesn't mean that we will continue to spend all of our travel budget on Michigan.  If money were no issue, we could do both as much as we wanted; travel to see family and vacation as our own family, but when your a family of 5 in 2017, money is always an issue.

At some point, as important as our roots are, our focus must turn to our children and the memories they will hold on to tightly. Michigan holds many amazing things, most amazing of them all, are our families. But those family members are not forgotten or left behind just because we moved, I religiously communicate with my sisters, parents, and in-laws. Even if it is just phone calls or text messages, our bond is still there and it is still strong.

Sometimes life moves us, not just in the direction we want, but the direction we need. I take great pride in not only moving here, but building our life here.  I love the friends and family we have created. I love that our marriage was built on the two of us surviving in a new place and building a new life together; Colorado is just as meaningful to our marriage as the vows we said 10 years ago.

Camping as just two in Telluride

I pray that some day my kids may struggle with letting go and going out on their own as much as I have. I hope that my kids want to stay, but push themselves to leave so that they can create their own futures and families.  No, I don't ever want to think of them moving thousands of miles away, but I will be proud that I've helped raise independent and confident individuals who chase their own lives.

The sum of 13 years is infinite

She was never meant to be a family pet for three kids or a "practice baby" for a young couple, she was meant to be mine, and I belonged to her.

Maddie was what 20 year old; selfish, unfocused, scared Megan needed. We loved each other unconditionally. The purpose she gave me was a relief from worrying so much about myself.

And when, on Friday, I carried her into the car one last time, I saw and felt the past 13 years fly by. I rubbed her head when I laid her down in the backseat and nuzzled my face to hers to let her know she would be fine. I inhaled her, trying to never lose that memory. Just as I had done 13 years ago, when I drove the two of us home for the first time, we were going to take this final drive, as just the two of us.

13 years goes by in a moment. 13 years holds too many emotions and life changing events to even put into words. When I began writing this, I typed everything I remembered about my life with Maddie; our stories, our travels, the moving we've done across this country, her funny quirks, the absolutely uncontrollable love she showed me, and how she changed me to my core.

But, the magnitude of what she meant to me and our time together isn't easily written.

Our time together, right now, means more to me than a series of moments written down. Those moments are there, those memories are wonderful, but for the time being, those belong to the two of us.

I've always said that I grew up with a golden retriever, because that is what our family had when I was younger, but it isn't true; I grew up with a black lab. I grew up with Maddie.

She wasn't a pet, she wasn't family, for 13 years she was a part of me, ever single day. Maddie saw it all, was there for it all, and I could not thank her enough for what she provided for me. 

Tonight, as we returned from camping, the kids hardly notices her absence.. and that is okay. To them; Maddie belonged to me, she was a fixture in our home since the moment they arrived in this world.  I noticed though, I felt her absence even before we arrived at the house. She hadn't rushed to the door or bounded through the house with excitement in a while, but she was there for me each day, without fail. With her kind, understanding eyes, she loved me with all that she was, and that is what I will miss the most.