[Part 2 of 4] A Series of Knowings…

During our recent visit to Wisconsin, Sean and I visited my childhood home with my mom and brother. With permission from the owners, we were able to spread some of Dad’s ashes in a place he — and we all — loved so much.



As Sean and I walked around the property, we agreed this (see below) was the spot where we stood together in 2010 when we knew we’d spend the rest of our lives together. 

Turns out, it was also the spot where, in September 2011, we said, “I do” in front of our closest friends and family:

This has been a theme in our 15 years together — a series of intuitive ah-ha moments that brought us from Utah to Montana to Alaska to the Arctic. Let’s call these: Knowings*.



They don’t feel like ordinary decisions. They feel... deeper. Like we’re not just deciding to do something. The moment Sean and I listen to a Knowing, it feels like we’re remembering (and executing) a plan that we — or the Universe? — set out long, long ago.



MONTANA
I knew I wanted to move from Utah as soon as I got there. It fun for a while — but I crave lakes like the one I grew up with. Sean simply requires proximity to mountains.



At the time, we worked at a college prep boarding school, and one of our students’ family generously offered us the opportunity to vacation at their cottage on Whitefish Lake, in Northwest Montana.  



Their only request: “Use the place as long as you like... as long as you don’t move to Whitefish before our son graduates.”



… they were completely serious!



I agreed to the terms and laughed at the peculiar request. I had no concept of what Northwest Montana even looked like, so the idea that I’d want to move there was so far-off.  



Months later, after making the drive north, I walked onto their dock on Whitefish Lake — mountain views in all directions — and a Knowing bubbled up:



This is where we need to live.



I laughed. How had they known?! It only took Sean and I a year to make the move. (And yes, we did wait until their son graduated!)



Below, with our Weimaraner Daisy, on a later trip to Montana. This was when we began to search for a home and put down some roots.

In early 2013, our property search dragged on for months while we rented a cabin on the outskirts of town. But like all Knowings, it came in a flash.



We’d rejected the idea of a bank-owned fixer-upper our realtor had strongly suggested. Having come from a fixer-upper in Utah, we wanted easy. (Or thought we did!)



Suddenly one night, Sean bolted upright in bed and exclaimed, “What are we thinking?!” Like lightening, his Knowing drove us to buy what our neighbors would affirm was: The best deal in the state of Montana.



On that 10 acres we bought in 2013, we were able to begin our off-grid journey, building our first home (a yurt!) and then renting our on-the-grid home on Airbnb.



Dad came out to help us with the yurt raising, too... although “yurt” wasn’t really on his list of prerequisites as a self-taught carpenter, he made do!

He and I spent a few days after we raised the yurt to build the front porch and stairs.


I don’t have a photo of us together — and I’m kicking myself I didn’t take more selfies with Dad! But he TOOK the photo below with me and our new (at the time) puppy, Glacier.

During countless trips to Lowe’s that weekend, Dad kept forgetting where to find certain things in the store and could never remember where he put his glasses (always on his head).



This is also where I experienced a different sort of Knowing: Something was definitely wrong.


It would have been easy to continue to write off the forgetfulness... to avoid the diagnosis we all had a hunch was on the horizon. But Knowings never mean the path is an easy one. They don’t even mean the path is one that we want.



Knowings push us to reach for our potential — so we can grow.



And although I’d never choose to have a family member go through what my dad endured, I can definitively say the experience has helped shape me into who I am today.



Dad would be diagnosed with Alzheimers about a year later... and that’s when Dad Jobs officially became my responsibility, whether I wanted them or not.



Stay tuned for Part 3 tomorrow, where we continue our migration north… to Alaska!


Until then,
Mollie




*PS — I first heard the word “Knowing” used in this way by my friend Kristen Cline, and it instantly resonated with me. Kristen: Thank you for sharing!