Posted by: morrowsl | June 26, 2017

The Never-Ending Diversity of Change

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Eight months ago, the view from my window changed dramatically.  In fact, the window nearest my desk these days is actually behind me and the view takes in the top of a large oak tree and our newly constructed back deck.  My mother’s sewing machine cabinet is parked there.  Because it made more sense to use the light for sewing.

I no longer see the traffic moving up and down our old street.  I have no idea what days the yard guy mows.  No notion of when Mr. Burns’ family comes to visit, although I suspect his son still spends a bit of each evening with his dad.  I no longer encounter our sweet next door neighbor, Helen, in the grocery.  Nor do I get my weekly hugs from the dry cleaner, Yvonne.
I have not watched even one thunderstorm moving in from the west to darken the rooftops.
Nor have I glanced up from my writing to see Holly stretched out a few feet away.

Eight months ago, I bid farewell to the concrete and asphalt and traffic.  And I was not the least bit sad to leave it.  But I do miss the friendships I so carefully guarded in the years of living midst the crush of the city.  I miss my friends.

Eight months ago, we moved away from, but did not sell, the home we’d lived in all our married days.  And each time I go back there, it feels less and less like “home” to me.  I was never a huge fan of the design of the house, but made it ours as best I could.  We had a very small bit of yard with no real privacy (at least not until we installed the wood fence a few years ago) thanks to an interstate highway moving traffic at breakneck speed mere yards from our back fence.  Any activity on the street could be heard from every window in our house, even with them all closed.  It wasn’t a bad house in a bad neighborhood, it just wasn’t the house in the neighborhood I wanted to live in forever.
So, while I’m not sure this house and this neighborhood is where I’ll live forever, I am sure it suits me and feels like a forever sort of place.

We are working, very hard, to finish off all of the first-year projects we’d agreed on initially.  We have prioritized most things to fit the ever-shifting needs and issues of this property along with the deadlines set for gaining the exemptions we need.  We put off a few things early on because of weather and now we’re having to do things that are made completely uncomfortable because of weather.  But even the weather here is different.  It is colder because we are farther north.  It is cooler because we have more trees.  It is wetter because we catch more of the systems that dip down and dump buckets.  It is muddier because of the massive amounts of rain, but it drains well because it is almost all sand.

In the eight months since making this move, we have relaxed very little.  Mike usually manages a half hour in the hot tub each morning while he drinks his coffee.  I get groups of minutes on the porch swing, although sitting still isn’t something I’m very good at.  We both snag naps in our chairs pretty much every night, waking an hour later with no idea how the ballgame ended.  Weekends bring the most downtime, although the rapidly approaching anniversary of closing on the sale looms large and keeps us moving.

Many things can be accomplished in eight months.  We’ve stopped having to carry an on-going list on a tablet everywhere we go.  Although the tablet sits on the counter still with its lined through scribbles and notes.  A reminder of all we’ve managed in the time we’ve had so far.  We no longer sit down each morning to go over what needs to be done in the hours ahead.  We don’t go to town every day.  We don’t have to compromise over who’s needs are more important or make deals to assure we both get the help we need with the things we have yet to finish.  We have time for the day-to-day maintenance of home ownership.  Although, the mud room bathroom hasn’t been cleaned in two weeks thanks to our newly acquire flock of chickens.

Eight months ago I had no assurance we could pull this off.  Heaven knows we’ve done more than I ever imagined we could.  There are still a great number of things to manage before summer is gone and we’re looking into the slower winter season.

Maybe I’ll get back to the old neighborhood then.  I have learned that anything is possible if you decide to take that first step.


Responses

  1. It sounds like Nirvana to me, even with all of the work you’ve done and have yet to do. Can’t wait to get to sit on that porch and have a chin wag. Oooooo, or maybe the hot tub this time!!! :O

    • Yes, even with all the work, it is still the only place I want to be.
      Porch, hot tub, the pool deck under the stars… we’ll sit in a new spot every evening.
      Can’t wait!


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