I moved a week ago, and I’m still getting used to it.
After collecting my belongings (I called it my diaspora!), the pieces and things from this life that have been stored, stashed and housed at various zip codes around the Bay Area, I have them now in one place. The garage is still full of boxes, but it’s mostly man stuff- tools and the things that go with tools. The master bath is still under construction so there’s a veneer of dust that seems to stick to everything; my guy says he’ll be done this weekend. I’ve cleaned it from stem to stern, and I’ll have to do it again, but it’ll be a labor of love.
I still walk in the living room from the front door and pause for a minute. “I have a house!” I sometimes say it out loud. This modest, retro 3 bed, 2 bath with a stunning view of the Bay and SFO. It feels like I won a contest, like it’s too good to be true.
After a year and a day of crawling back to this point, there remains occasional paranoia- what if it something happens? What if there’s a fire? What if the job goes south for some random reason? What would happen? My head gets these thoughts, but I remind myself it will be OK. I know how to do this. This…this thing we do called living, is not easy. There will always be roadblocks and diversions and distractions and potholes. I guess it’s taking a few days to get comfortable with my place in the world, wondering what’s next, what’s ahead.
When you’ve been on the sidelines of life for a year, rejoining a state of normalcy can be a bit odd. That may sound strange- why wouldn’t one just rejoice and savor it?
Liberating ourselves from a tough life situation brings with it a combination of joy and trepidation. It’s our nature to default to worry. This worry feels different from worries of 6 months ago, however, and that’s a good thing. It’ll pass. I have a new life, a new start. It will be up to me to take care of my business.
The home theatre subwoofer makes the floors rumble. It’s a joy primarily enjoyed by the male of the species, I understand, but it still sounds good! The house is old and ultra-modern at the same time. Buying stuff for it has been fun. My little Brady Bunch house, with its quirks and odd colors (the pink tile in the bathroom is hilarious), a pallete to layer with the very minimalist and modern. I’m owning the retro vibe.
The pots and pans are in position; I can cook for a dozen or more. It’s been so long since I’ve been able to say that.
This house is becoming my home. When you come over, I might have a little glint of excitement in my eyes when I’m showing you around. It’s not a fabulous palace, but it’s neat, it’s clean, and it’s mine. I’m proud of it. Another step forward, another chapter, a new page in the book of a life.
The last few days I have been blocked- words have been hard to come by. When you write all the time, it’s bound to happen.
The words today are returning to my head. That’s a positive sign.