This Diva is moving across this big, wide, huge country, from one coast to the other, to New York.

Oh, come on! You knew it was coming. I’ve been talking about my Big City fever. And how little, lovely, sleepy Santa Rosa and my home town of Sebastopol has been feeling… well, very, very small. Tight. Teeny.

So, here’s the deal:

After months of flying back and forth from the Oakland airport to JFK, after falling in love with the city that is New York, after feeling myself needing and craving Something I Can’t Name or Yet Know, one thing became clear: “gotta get up, gotta get out, gotta get home till the…” You get the idea.

Needless to say, this decision has come with HUGE consequences, the most obvious being… leaving my husband of 26 years. A community of friends, musicians and familiarity that has sustained me for over 27 years. But because my husband is an angel, an enlightened boddhisatva who knows life is short and must be lived to the fullest, we are working out this strange, unexpected twist of life beautifully. Kindly. Respectfully.

But make no mistake. There have been days and long nights of intense pain over this choice as well. I wake up at 2:00 am (that is, if I fall asleep in the first place) in a state of panic and disbelief. “No way! I’m not going anywhere,” I think to myself. But as the sun rises and I come into the morning, I know I AM going. That I have to.

Just today my husband and I were talking about this Calling, this Thing that tells us what we have to do even if we don’t fully understand why. No, we didn’t come up with any answers or insight. Mostly amazement, a good dose of grief and, for me, the incredible excitement of NOT knowing and doing it any way.

So, I’ve spent these past 6 days packing in earnest, getting quotes from moving companies, changing my mind about where to live and with whom once I get there, and riding the waves of grief and joy, doubt and certainty, love and fear, desire and exhaustion, complaining and appreciating. I’ve said goodbye to my music community, let go of my monthly gig at Upper Fourth (ouch! that hurt!) and told most of my friends, who support me with a mixture of concern and boundless love.

I haven’t told my mother yet. And since she doesn’t read this blog I think I’ll write her a long letter explaining as best I can why I’m doing what I’m doing. She won’t get it, but that’s got to be okay.

So, New York, brace yourself. I should be there by April 15 if not sooner. And Sonoma County, I’ll love you forever. And I’ll visit often. But for now, I got to go.