Moving to the Mountain

My husband (then boyfriend) and I had talked about moving to the small mountain town where we’d vacationed regularly in the three years since he’d bought a condo there, but the timeline had always been “someday.” In my third year of law school, “someday” became “now” and I had to make a crucial life decision.

“Vikki,” he asked me on the phone on Christmas Eve, “are you sure that you want to move?”

He’d texted me pictures a few days before of an amazing house he’d found in the mountain town. He was skiing during the holidays at our vacation condo while I spent Christmas with my family in New Mexico. I loved the house. It was exactly the kind of place I’d always wanted to live. I loved the idea of actually living in the little storybook mountain town we’d visited so often.

Yet I also knew that movement lawyering doesn’t happen in a mountain town, and public service doesn’t give you a lot of control over where you live.

Basically, I was choosing between devoting myself to my personal life or to my career.

Sometimes I feel guilty for the choice I made. Sometimes I also feel jealous of my friends who decided to commit to the career path. One good friend of mine will be starting in the public defender appellate division this fall, and it is a position that I would have applied for if I had been willing to live in Denver.

I’ve also felt guilty about the tension between wanting to help marginalized, underserved populations and wanting to live in a comfortable home with a nice view. I admire people who become part of the communities they serve, and I sometimes feel bad that I don’t have it in me.

I think however, that going with my heart and making the choice to serve my personal desires has helped me to come up with career ideas that actually excite me, and I have a wonderful husband who fully supports this period of self-discovery. I recognize how incredibly lucky I am to be able to explore exciting, but not necessarily well paying, opportunities. 

I also recognize what my role in progressive movements can be.

The truth is that I simply don’t have it in me anymore – if I ever did – to be the boots on the ground, so to speak. What I do have, though, is a lot of passion, a way with words, and a great speaking voice. I have an opportunity to inspire and educate those who will be better on the ground than I can be now. I volunteer in the local restorative justice community, I will host a workshop at a conference on gender next month, and I’m working on some writing I’ve wanted to do for a long time.

“Vikki,” he asked me on the phone on Christmas Eve, “are you sure that you want to move?”

“Yes, my love. Let’s go for it.”