Well, if I felt like a “man without a country” before, it’s practically a reality today. On Friday my brother came down from Michigan to sign closing papers on my parents’ (our) house. I’ll be living here for the next weeks as I narrow my new home options down, but nearly everything has been packed, donated, given away or thrown away. The remainder is in limbo, waiting in near-empty cupboards and a couple of closets.
I am also in limbo to an extent, though I pack and move boxes and furniture to the basement or storage room every day in order to feel like I’m moving forward. The constant sorting and filtering and reliving memories during this year have worn on me—not that I would regret or trade the experience of the past five years. While I feel the heaviness of loss and perplexity of the future on any given day, the trial by fire is but smoldering now as I finish with my parents’ lives and refocus on my own and the possibilities that come with a clean slate.
As a Capricorn, I like security. I’ve lived on the edge before. Secure is better. But not feeling secure is a lesson in growth. And trust.
I set aside time to meditate every day, to clear my head and listen to any inner or outer voice that cares to offer direction. After all that’s happened I’m confident that angels maintain a vigilant watch on goings-on around me and give me some guidance. I had expected to stay for another year or so and save a bit of money working on one or two of the several job offers that appeared earlier this year. But, in spite of the fact that four different entities approached ME, none of them have materialized into actual work. Instead, they’ve vaporized—a clear sign that I am to move on.
The newspaper “eliminated” my part-time position (along with others’) at the end of May just two days before the State of Ohio said they would be in a hold pattern on a project for another 12 months-- translation: no funding for making my part-time County job full-time for at least a year. While this income decrease was distressing, it was the Universe’s way of pushing me to pack it in and pack it up. I told the buyers for this house to go ahead and begin the paperwork. We were supposed to sign toward the end of the month. They decided to go ahead and get it done last week.
I have homes “saved” on various sites for Newport, Oregon, and Buffalo and Rochester. The more I talk about New York winters, the less enthusiastic I am to get there. I love the Oregon coast all year round and could probably get back into the photo/writing/wine thing without too much trouble. On the negative side, I missed the east while I was out there—the history, my friends, the architecture, the proximity to family. I currently don’t have work lined up in Rochester, however, so that’s unsettling (the security thing.) It’s a much bigger place, though, with a year-round economy, so there are more opportunities available.
I went through the final bins in the garage yesterday and found a notebook/journal that I kept while going through my divorce. It was painful to read. I was hurt and confused and wanted so badly to make things better, to be the wife I was “supposed” to be. But as I read I saw myself progressing through that experience, that pain, that insecurity and coming to the other side, and I recognized my time here as somewhat similar: working through the range of emotions, new doors opening as others close, feeling stronger with a bit of time, and feeling the Universe push me to a new level in my life.
A few days ago a Rochester friend posted a “girl drink” recipe on Facebook, and my first thought and comment on it was “It looks perfect for chick flick night!” As I fixed Sunday breakfast this morning, I thought what fun it will be to have friends over for Sunday brunch, maybe once a month. At Dollar General picking up some plastic bags, I added a couple of little hanging votives from a sale shelf to my basket for my new porch. Or patio. Or garden. This is exciting.
I’m moving on, and my only security now is the knowledge that the Universe will put me in the right house in the right place and show me the right opportunities for the next leg of my journey. More to come.
(RE: the photos, one day at the Hill, while trying to take a quick nap, I looked up at a skylight and thought about it as a frame for fleeting abstract paintings, little snippets of clouds and sky dancing, twisting, disappearing.)