A week from today, the movers will come. E and I will be moving across town (big concept in Pueblo!) to a small, 2 bedroom apartment in a small, quiet complex. I’m in the throes of sorting, tossing, packing. Things are lined up. I’m ready. I don’t think he’s completely happy about it, but I think he understands why it has to happen.
I sat in the hot tub this morning after I got back from taking him to school. I’ll miss that. I’ll miss the birds and all their social interaction. There really IS a pecking order, especially when it comes to baths (the robins will NOT bathe with the blue jays, no matter what, and the starlings, while horrible birds, are the most enthusiastic bath takers ever). I’ll miss the scent of rain in the morning, which only means that they’ve turned on the sprinkler system in the park across the street.
There’s a lot more I will miss, but there is even more that I won’t miss. I sure won’t miss the tension that has seemed to fill every corner of this house for far too long. I won’t miss being annoyed all the time and trying not to feel it, but still feeling it anyway, no matter how hard I try. Being annoyed all the time sucks. Even when you are doing your damnedest to breathe and release and understand why it’s happening, it seeps into you, like dust in a desert storm getting through the tightest cracks in a building. Being annoyed over a long period of time wears you down. It soaks into your joints worse than arthritis until just standing up is almost too much of an effort.
This all happened rather suddenly. For a while, I entertained the idea of buying the house from her. But, terms were laid down that were simply not acceptable and then I wondered if I bought the house, would I be forever judged as to how I KEPT the house. So, no. Then, I realized, deep down, home ownership just isn’t for me. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I love living IN a house. I just don’t want to do all the stuff it takes to keep it up. I’m honest enough to admit that. And, given my income, etc., I don’t have the financial resources to hire the right kind of people to do it for me. So, apartment living it is.
It’s good. It will be a perfect break…a diametric opposite from what I’ve had these past 13 years. I will breathe. I will regroup. E and I will figure this out. He’s most worried (of course) about the TV and his Xbox. I told him that whether or not we were “allowed” to take a TV, he would have one. Yes, we have argued over chattels, something I swore I would never do, but it’s better now. I’m getting stuff into boxes, and really not taking all that much, but enough. “Enough is as good as a feast.” Thank you, Mary Poppins. A bit saccharine, possibly, but true.
I spent yesterday going through old papers and letters. I found a home for my stack of fanzines. I’m re-homing some of my cookbooks and yoga magazines, but otherwise, I’m trashing stuff like crazy. You know what? It feels great. I’ve already donated several hundred pounds of books and there will be more to come. Of course, I’ll keep some, mostly those I have read before, and re-read periodically. The ones whose reading give me joy and tears and new insight each time. Yep. Those are the keepers. Otherwise, I’ll pass them along for someone else to enjoy for a while.
Nothing is permanent. And this didn’t happen because anyone hurt anyone else. No one cheated. No financial contracts were breached. The paths simply diverged, and now we have to take the ones that are meant for each of us, and those paths no longer travel side by side.
I took the boys (E and his best friend, who is at our house a lot) to see Furious Seven yesterday. E is a F&F fanatic, and knows everything about the late Paul Walker. Of course, at the end of the movie, they did a little look-back of the previous films. Then, Vin Diesel’s character was driving along an open road and came to an intersection. As he waited, another car pulled up next to him. Paul Walker, of course. They spoke through the open windows and took off together, driving side by side, equally matched for a little while. Then, the way forked. As the view pulled back to an aerial view of the two cars, each followed their respective direction and grew further and further apart. It was touching in the context of the film, of course, but it was a perfect metaphor for where I am right now. My road is stretching out in front of me. Mine. I’m ready to follow it.