“Starting over at thirty-five feels different than I thought it would.”
The seven a.m. Arizona sun streaming through their Oro Valley bedroom window was already intense—nothing like the gently filtered light of their old apartment’s airshaft view. As Carlos adjusted his pressed white shirt in the bathroom mirror, preparing for his first job fair in Tucson, the reality of starting over professionally hit him with full force.
“Do you think this looks too dressy for a tech job fair?” he called to Marisol, who was already deep into West Coast client calls at the kitchen counter, navigating the three-hour time difference that now defined her workday.
Better without the tie -Job Hunting
“You look professional. Competent,” she replied, pausing her coffee mug halfway to her lips with the practiced eye of someone who’d spent years in marketing. “Maybe lose the tie? Arizona seems more casual.”
The morning energy in their temporary breakfast nook was determinedly upbeat, but nervous anticipation crackled beneath the surface like the static electricity that builds in Oro Valley’s dry desert air. Carlos had three job leads in Tucson—one with a regional bank, one with Banner Health’s IT division, and one with the University of Arizona. Meanwhile, Daniel was preparing for his first day at Painted Sky Elementary, where everything from the dress code to the lunch program would differ dramatically from PS 132 in Manhattan.
The drive to Daniel’s new school took twelve minutes through neighborhoods of stucco houses and xeriscaped yards—a stark contrast to their old fifteen-minute subway ride through four different ethnic enclaves. Painted Sky Elementary, nestled in the Catalina Foothills with views of the Santa Catalina Mountains, represented everything that had drawn the family to Oro Valley’s renowned school district.
“Remember what we talked about, mijo,” Carlos said, kneeling beside Daniel on the hot pavement outside the school’s adobe-inspired entrance. “Be yourself. Ask questions. And if someone invites you to sit with them at lunch—”
“Say yes,” Daniel finished, nodding solemnly before breaking into the gap-toothed grin that never failed to tighten his father’s chest with love.
Carlos lingered outside the school, observing the morning drop-off routine that would soon become familiar.
First Day at School – A Father’s concern.
There were moms in yoga pants and hiking boots heading to morning workouts at the Oro Valley Community Center, dads in dusty work shirts bound for construction sites, and grandparents shepherding multiple grandchildren with practiced efficiency. A few other parents shared the unmistakable look of recent transplants—pressed khakis, nervous smiles, and expensive SUVs with out-of-state plates.
“It wasn’t New York,” Carlos reflects. “It wasn’t the familiar chaos of parents juggling MetroCards, coffee cups, and backpacks while rushing to catch trains. But it didn’t feel unfriendly either.”
The job fair in a hotel conference center near the Tucson Mall smelled of industrial carpet and yesterday’s coffee. Carlos worked the room methodically, his résumé printed on heavy paper and his elevator pitch polished to exactly thirty seconds. The reality check was immediate: most IT positions paid significantly less than his Morgan Stanley salary, though Oro Valley’s cost of living was a fraction of Manhattan’s expenses.
“Two interviews lined up for next week,” he announced that afternoon, loosening his tie as he walked through their front door. “One with Banner Health seems promising—they need someone with financial systems experience. The other is with a small firm mostly doing basic network maintenance.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “It’s a little beneath my experience level.”
The conversation that followed reflected the pragmatic adjustments many families make when relocating to Oro Valley.
“We can’t afford pride right now, Carlos,” Marisol said gently, closing her laptop after wrapping up a client presentation for a San Francisco startup. “One of us needs to be free to drive Daniel around, handle appointments, and figure out where to buy groceries that don’t cost a fortune.”
Six months later, as we checked in with the family, Carlos acknowledged the emotional complexity of their transition. “Starting over at thirty-five feels different than I expected,” he admits. “You think you have all this experience and expertise, and then you’re sitting in waiting rooms hoping someone will give you a chance to prove yourself all over again.”
Marisol’s perspective balanced his concerns with the bigger picture. “I miss our bodega guy asking about Daniel’s Little League games. I miss being able to grab Thai food at midnight. I miss knowing which subway car to get on to be closest to the exit.” She gestured toward their window, where the Sonoran Desert stretched endlessly under the afternoon sun. “But this—this space, this quiet, the chance for Daniel to ride his bike to school someday—it’s a gift. We just haven’t learned how to unwrap it yet.”
The family’s first weeks in Oro Valley required practical and emotional adjustments.
Marisol discovered that Fry’s Food Stores and Sprouts Farmers Market provided everything their Manhattan bodega had offered, plus organic options at prices that didn’t require a second mortgage. Carlos learned that while smaller than New York’s financial district, Oro Valley’s business community offered networking opportunities through the Chamber of Commerce and professional groups meeting at venues like El Conquistador.
Daniel’s integration at Painted Sky Elementary proved the smoothest of all. “His teacher, Mrs. Rodriguez, ensured he felt welcomed from day one,” Marisol explains. “And the outdoor education programs here—using the desert as a classroom—are something we never could have imagined in Manhattan.”
Moving to Oro Valley- Dust Devils
Outside their home, dust devils spiraled across the distant horizon like earthbound tornadoes, and the Santa Catalina Mountains shifted from purple to gold as the day progressed. The uncertainty that had swirled in their thoughts during those first weeks was gradually replaced by something steadier: the growing realization that they hadn’t just moved to a new place but had begun building a new kind of life.
“Someday soon, we’ll be the parents who know every teacher’s name, every speed bump, every shortcut through the neighborhood,” Carlos reflected during our follow-up conversation. “We’re not there yet, but we can see it coming.”
Next: Chapter 3 – The School Search That Changed Everything
