For Thirteen years my former husband and I lived in a 3-bedroom, 2-bathroom house in Anaheim. It was an old house built in 1947, that we remodeled bit by bit over the years. When we originally bought the house, we thought we would probably be there only a few years but as time went on, we opened a business just down the street and had another child, and with so much going on we just sort of settled in. We had great neighbors who we had become friends with and had even enjoyed many wonderful holidays, birthdays, graduations, and even weddings throughout the years.
Every year or two we would talk about wishing we could move to a bigger, better house in a better neighborhood, with better schools. We would check the value of our house to see if we had gained enough equity and we would look at homes in the nearby cities we wished we could live in. We even dined and shopped in the areas we wanted to live in to “act as if”. Every year we would do more upgrades to our house, always making the very best of what we had. Since the schools in the area weren’t up to our standards, we felt fortunate that we were able to put our girls in a private school across the street from our cake shop. My husband would often talk about how if we moved to “Corona” he could ride the train to work. I was adamantly opposed to moving to Corona as it was almost 30 miles away and I couldn’t see how I could run my cake shop with my children being in school so far away where we did not have family and friend support. At some point, he stopped mentioning it and we resigned ourselves to the fact that we would continue staying where we were.
As years went by, the neighborhood became less and less desirable to us. Multi-families were moving in, which brought more cars on the streets and many of the neighbors were not keeping up their houses and lawns which made us sad. One of the houses that had always been a problem had an old Mayflower moving truck parked in front of it. We learned the guys who now lived there had bought it used for their furniture business. This was an eyesore to us, and we felt it was bringing the neighborhood down even further. Time and time again, I would call the city code enforcement office and they would make the guys move it. It would stop being there for a month or so and then it would be back again, and the cycle would repeat.
One weekend in April of 2002, we went on a fun camping trip with our neighbors across the street. I remember my husband and I sitting together enjoying our morning coffee. We discussed how even though we wished we could move to a better house; we were fortunate and thankful to live in a nice house surrounded by great neighbors. We drove home from our camping trip with the attitude that we would continue to be happy where we were with what we had. But, as we turned onto our street pulling our camping trailer, there it was…the Mayflower moving truck. My husband and I looked at each other and said emphatically and in unison to each other, “We are out of here!” We had had enough. That was the last straw. As soon as we unpacked the trailer, we sat down to discuss how we could get out of that neighborhood. We knew there had to be a way. We had the next day off together so we decided to go drive by some homes for sale in neighborhoods we thought we would like to live in. After a morning of looking at homes and what we could get for the money we had and could qualify for, we were very discouraged. We liked some of the neighborhoods and the school districts but the houses we could afford were not as nice as the one we had now. We decided we needed a break to reflect and regroup so we went to lunch at one of our favorite restaurants. I will never forget as long as I live the way the next few minutes played out. I even remember where we were sitting and which way I was facing as I ate my salad. Out of the blue, the thought occurred to me, and I said out loud to my husband, “What about Corona?” It is what I call a snapshot moment. In that moment, it was done. Complete. We were living in our new home in Corona. Even though nothing had happened yet, everything was different. It is a feeling I can’t explain. All I know is that I knew, beyond a doubt, that moving to Corona was the perfect answer and that it was done, and everything would flow into place.
The next few days are a blur. A flurry of activity. First of all, as soon as I said, “What about Corona?”, my husband looked at me as though I was out of my mind. He reminded me that he had been saying we should move to Corona for years and I would have nothing to do with it. I said I know that, but we are in a different place now. Our children were older and living that many miles away didn’t seem as far. Our youngest was 11 and we could keep her in the private school so she could finish up her 6th-grade year where she had gone since kindergarten. It was also great timing for our oldest daughter to change schools. We contacted a real estate agent, signed papers to list our home for sale, and started the loan process. We were hosting a 40th birthday party for my brother that Saturday and would go look at homes in Corona on Sunday. I remember telling everyone at the party that we were going to find our dream home the next day. And, we did just that. 45 days to the day that I asked, “What about Corona?”, we moved into a stunning four-bedroom, three-bath home with a three-car garage, neutral-colored carpet, and paint, rock swimming pool with a spa and slide, tropical landscaping, and a built-in covered bar and BBQ. The house was only 2 ½ years old and was in a great neighborhood with award-winning schools. Finally, we felt at home!