The past seems easier sometimes, and I think holding onto it allows me, somehow, to move forward. I always hear how you have to let the past go, have to live in the moment, control your now. I think I’m able to move forward because I hold onto the past. Knowing there are people to go back to, friends there for you in another city, options, makes you less afraid to try new ones. New cities, new friends, new things. Because the past, what you knew, what you had, is always there. You already know what it’s like. Holding onto the past can sometimes be freeing. It’s my security blanket, for sure.

I haven’t shared this yet, but I’ve been secretly turning our guest bedroom into a recreation of my apartment bedroom from New York. When I feel sad or in need of encouragement and strength, I climb into that bed, with that same bedding, my same soft sheets, from a frivolous time in my life, when I wasn’t married and didn’t have to answer to or compromise with anyone. So I could spend $220 on ONE PILLOW CASE–actually it was a Euro Sham, but still! Because there wasn’t anyone telling me not to. It was my money, to spend as I pleased. But now there are joint priorities. Now when I’m in a store, I’ve become the kind of woman who says, "my husband would kill me." Because all he hears are all the things I want. A pool. A nanny. A music class for the kids. A new camera. But in that room, I can close my eyes and pretend for a moment that I’m just home from a birthday party, that I’ve just ordered in sushi, that Linus is still at the groomer or something. I can pretend it’s just me again. And I need that, to be able to remember who I was before I became a wife and mother. Because I love that girl.