A little over two years ago, after a ten-month courtship, we stood in front of about twenty-nine people in Twentynine Palms, CA, at 2:29pm on February 29, and got married.

In our wedding vows, we promised to come together and create a new home, one that would be a place of peace and joy. I don’t know how many couples include homemaking in their vows, but I think we had each found ourselves in so many tough spots in our lives before we found each other that it was important to us to have a soft place to land in this marriage, and not just figuratively. We’re gentle, sensitive people, and we need sanctuary from a world that’s getting harsher and more indifferent by the day, it seems. We also long for a space big enough to not only keep us safe, but also to welcome in loved ones…and strangers who may become beloved, as many of our friends already have.

We found a tiny little apartment in a not-so-great neighborhood for much less than the going rate, and we got down to work: there were debts to pay, bodies to mend, losses to grieve. Most importantly, there were dreams to be dreamt.

Over hot stoves, on long car rides, in the relative safety of our bed at night, we began to create the vision for the life we wanted. We spoke of a small house with a big garden, and (hopefully) a child or two. In our minds’ eyes, we sketched out the kitchen, decorated the family room, and chose the type of insulation we wanted. And all the while, we counted our pennies and saved as much as we could.

The pennies added up, but not quickly, and the harder we worked, the farther away our dream house began to feel. We watched real estate prices rising in our city, and calculated how many more years it would take for us to afford a home… The younger of us turns forty this year, and we began to awaken to the reality that, if we don’t want our starter home to be a retirement home, we needed to consider leaving Los Angeles.

Our search for a New City began with the one we visit the most, in the Great Pacific Northwest. We have siblings there, and a niece (and now a new nephew!). Could we forgo our dream of a long growing season to be closer to loved ones? Almost certainly. Would the one of us that’s prone to depression find a way to thrive in a city that sees two hundred and fifty rainy or cloudy days annually? Probably. Could the spouse that identifies as “Hispanic” acclimate to going days at a time without speaking Spanish to passersby on the street, or folks at the grocery store? Um… maybe?

As we considered that city, and the next, and the one after that, we came to recognize, and be able to define, what elements our New City would require in order for us to manifest our full potential as individuals, and as the family we were becoming. We began looking for a place that would offer ample opportunity for growth in each of our careers. A place at least as sunny (if not as arid) as our beloved City of Angels. A city where each one of us, brown and white, could see ourselves reflected in the faces of our neighbors, and hear the music of our native languages in their voices. We wanted big-city happenings, and a small-town feel. A place where our aspirations could rise as our roots deepened. As our list of wishes grew longer, our list of cities grew shorter. Until finally, one city remained: Austin, Texas. And we’re not only asking what our city can do for us: The city has issued a plea for years, on bumper stickers and tee shirts, to “Keep Austin weird!” We figure we could help with that. We’re givers, that way.

We set a timeline for early 2016, and re-dedicated ourselves to saving up for the move, but as luck would have it, we lost a job rather unexpectedly, and for confounding reasons. It seemed unfair, but it also seemed like as good a time as any to go. After all, if we were going to conduct a job search, why not do it in our New City? Moving Day just advanced by a couple of years, and is now set for June 2014. Which is like, almost now.

We don’t feel ready, but perhaps that’s the point of a Big Adventure, isn’t it? At some point, you just have to start, and trust that, if you’re on the right path, what you need will be provided.

At least, that’s the plan…