Moving was nothing new for my wife and me, who have lived in many places together.
We met in Southern California and spent years living around the East Coast. Each of our three kids was born in a different state.
By fall of 2020, my wife was looking to relocate to someplace where she could practice medicine in an indigenous community. Her primary targets were Alaska, Four Corners, and Hawaii, all of which desperately needed doctors — especially during the pandemic.
Yet when she announced that she’d actually landed an offer to work at a hospital in Hawaii, I had mixed feelings. On the one hand, it had a special place in our hearts as we’d gotten married there in 2008.
On the other, we’d purchased a nice four-bedroom house with an indoor pool in Albany, New York. But it wasn’t just that I was having a hard time letting go of what I thought would be our “forever house.”
Things between us had already been rocky — and moving to paradise wasn’t going to automatically fix that.
So I listened to my gut, which told me to stay behind in New York and take some space, even though my freelance writing allowed me to work from anywhere.
They left, I cried, and I eventually left New York to join them
Seeing them go in 2021 wasn’t easy. I can still picture my son (4 years old at the time) waving his little hand goodbye from the airport security line. I cried for several hours that day, wondering whether I’d made a good decision.
A couple of months later, I flew out to visit them. After touring the island for a few days, I saw the gorgeous house they were renting in Honokaa, situated on a 1,000-foot cliff overlooking the ocean.
I was proud of the life they’d set up, but sadly, I also felt like an outsider.
Several weeks after I returned east by myself, the five of us met in California for a family vacation, after which the kids and I flew to Albany for the summer.
At the end of July, the four of us jetted back to the island. This time, I stayed for the whole school year in the house’s ohana, a separate living space over the garage.
In many ways, this exemplifies the gray area my wife and I’s relationship was in — amicable enough to be close but not too close.
Naturally, I enjoyed the sunshine, beaches, hammocks, rainbows, amazing local fruit, and nightly chirping coqui frogs. But the best was getting to enjoy the (albeit expensive) Hawaiian lifestyle with my kids.
Eventually, I realized that all the back-and-forth wasn’t sustainable, financially or emotionally.
So at the end of 2023, we sold our Upstate New York house, and I committed to Hawaii. I found a room to rent just a short walk from their new rental house in Waikoloa, which offered me a mix of proximity and independence.
Then six months later, my wife lost her job at the hospital, and we all moved back to the East Coast.
And just like that, we’re back in New York
Although we initially thought about returning to Albany — where we’d lived for eight years — we wound up settling in my wife’s hometown in Long Island.
It’s been quite an adjustment. Not only the lifestyle and culture shock of hastily leaving Hawaii for New York, but also figuring out whether we’re able to peaceably live under the same roof or deftly maneuver some version of “nesting.”
Currently, my wife and I are living apart, and we are using mediation to draft a separation agreement. I’m looking for a job, a car, and a place to live that’s close to the kids.
As I reflect back, I’m proud of myself for staying authentic to my intuitions, even when it was painful.
I value the insights that I’ve gained from my marriage, thanks in large part to the couples coaching we did. And though I regret selling our Albany house, I’m grateful for experiencing Hawaii as much as I did.
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