I do. I found that out pretty quickly. The Ford Taurus heater crashed and died somewhere around Knoxville. I dug my winter boots out of the trunk (haven’t worn them in 8-1/2 years) and piled on the layers. I looked like the Michelin Man.

Some kind gas station attendant mentioned that Wal-mart sells portable heaters that you plug into your car adapter. Score! Unfortunately, it really did nothing more than keep the windows from fogging up to the point where visibility is laughable. But by stopping every 1-1/2 hours to warm my feet, I survived the trip.

So how does one pack up 8-1/2 years in the south for a new life in Cleveland? Actually, it wasn’t that bad. Of course, I had resources. INCREDIBLE resources.

First, there’s my cousin, Eileen … aka The Packing Goddess. She and her husband moved to Atlanta a month before I left (only the most considerate of relatives would leave just when family moves into town. I’m surprised she’s still speaking to me.) Eileen and I had a blast in the limited time we had together. She’s not only a workhorse, but she’s tons of fun. And my packing experience would have been less-than-smooth if it weren’t for her.

I also had my sister, Anne, who flew in from Baltimore for a day of packing. You may think this was a burden for her. I can assure you … a day of packing is like a day at the spa. She lives for this stuff.

One thing about this move that I was really looking forward to was using a POD container. Whoever thought of these things is a genius. Pack up a container, move it to their storage facility, call when you want your stuff back and they’ll deliver your POD where you need it. I love it. No moving stuff from a truck, to a storage facility, back to a truck, then to your new home. Pack once, unpack once.

I hired movers to load the POD. They took one look at my 16-ft container and my household of stuff and raised their eyebrows. “Ma’am, not sure all this will fit.” Well, make it fit. Please. PLEEEEEASE. And by the grace of God, they did. They fit my belongings like a jigsaw puzzle. Bless them.

All that’s left is packing the Taurus for the 12-hour drive north. No problem. I’ll be living with my parents til I sell my house … or until we drive each other crazy. So everything I need for the time being fits without a hitch. So on December 7, 2011, I’m bound for Ohio. WOO HOO!

So how did all this happen? I didn’t move to Atlanta because I hated Cleveland. On the contrary, I love Cleveland. It’s my home, my sense of place. But who am I to ignore new opportunities and new adventures? When I was offered a job transfer in 2002, I took it. My husband liked the idea as well.

Fast forward to 2010. I’ve been divorced 3 years. And while I have wonderful friends in Atlanta, my trips to visit family and friends are becoming more frequent. My parents are nearing 80. I’m feeling disconnected from the people and things that matter to me. But I tuck it all in the back of my mind and keep on keeping on.

Then a funny thing happened. I come to Cleveland for my brother’s wedding. But I have to stay the week because my niece is performing in a play the following weekend. So I borrow some office space from my friends at Marcus Thomas. I get to sit in the president’s office while he’s off traveling. (As a thank-you gift, I leave him a framed copy of my 6th grade school photo nestled among his lovely family photos. I give him credit … it only took 2 hours before he noticed it.)

While most of the Marcus Thomas team wonders who the heck is sitting in the president’s office, I reconnect with the partner in charge of the public relations group. My former boss. Over the years, she’s asked me about coming back to MT. My reaction was always the same: A little grin and a “well, maybe someday” comment. This time, the stars were aligned. She spoke of a specific opportunity. I raised my eyebrow, immediately intrigued. She didn’t expect it. We had lunch. She talked to the other partners. Two weeks later, we had an agreement.

Holy cow, I’m moving back to Cleveland. And three weeks later, I did.

Well, that happened fast. One day, I’m in Atlanta, working in marketing communications for Deloitte Consulting. Five weeks later, I’ve relocated back to my hometown of Cleveland, and I’m working for Marcus Thomas LLC, moving from the corporate world to the crazy energy of an integrated marketing agency I worked for in the early 90s.

I’m 45 years old, and I’ve not only boomeranged … I’ve double boomeranged.

Whoa.

Me thinks this is gonna be really, really interesting.