Mixed Metaphors

Five years ago when my relationship of 15 years ended, and we first discussed our separation plans, I couldn’t imagine in those initial few moments how I would ever be able to tackle the job of finding a new place to live, pack up many years worth of accumulated material goods, and land on my feet again, physically, emotionally, financially and spiritually.

I was no longer a 20 or 30 year old kid who could pack up and move on to the next adventure like a vagabond, but a woman approaching her sixth decade, and though not set in my ways, I enjoyed and relied on the familiarity and predictability of my day-to-day life and the comfort of my routines.

I quickly rediscovered that at heart I am a resilient and resourceful woman, and soon found a wonderful condo to rent with all the amenities I wanted and in the neighborhood which I had lived and called home. I began drafting “to do lists,” drawing floor plans, calculating budgets, and shopping for things I would need.  Each day that drew closer to my move, I felt like a child counting down to Christmas.

I still had the grief and emotions to deal with from the ending of my relationship, but now I was also full of hope and the promise of a new life, a fresh start. During the past five years following the move, my life grew richer in ways I could not have imagined.  I relish my solitary life, the old friendships I’ve rekindled and the new ones I’ve made.  I might even be ready to make room for the right person in my life again. I’ve also fashioned a refreshed relationship with my ex-partner as an intimate friend and chosen family member.  My home became my sanctuary and retreat, my base camp for everyday life.

So it was a shock to learn this past Friday that an offer was accepted on my condo and I’ll need to move by June 1^st.  Though I have occasionally imagined this day, I dreaded it as I had five years earlier. But quickly, using the past as the road map for my future, I focused on the opportunity and destination awaiting me and by the time the weekend was over, I found a new home, with floor plans to draw and furniture to arrange with my mind’s eye.

640 West, my new home.

Floor plan of my new home.

Yes, there are lots of “to do lists” in my future plus the hard work of packing and managing all the details a move requires. And, at the end of this moving story will be the unpacking and rediscovery of my material life, while the living juicy and soulfully will unfold in each new day ahead. Life is good.