Mixed Metaphors

Home Again

Home again; another journey ends. I’m home again and grateful. Yesterday, when I woke up in my new home after making coffee, followed by making my bed (old habits are hard to break), I sat at my desk, looked out my window on the world — or at least my neighborhood — and journaled. I immediately felt comforted by a familiar ritual as I reflected on the days that led to my arrival here. 

Window on the World

Bedroom

Once again the move was rich with lessons about myself, who and what’s important to me and how I navigate in the world, who or what I turn to for support, and who is waiting in the wings with well-wishes and offers of help. First, I want to thank all of my friends and family and say hello again. As I logged off the grid and didn’t answer phones or respond to texts, I’ve resurfaced, alive and well, yet somewhat disoriented as I explore my new environment and try to find my belongings and bearings packed away in 45 plastic totes and 3 wardrobe boxes.

Living Room

The day of the move began at 4:00 a.m. as I scrambled to finish packing before the movers arrived at 7:30. Two men arrived with a truck and a plan. It was a humid, unseasonably warm day that followed a series of thunderstorms. It was impossible to move without sweating. Three hours later and with just a couple of minor mishaps, I was on way to the new destination, a recently completed apartment building in a downtown neighborhood of renovated warehouses converted to lofts and new construction.

Tobacco Lofts

Another three hours passed and all my possessions now occupied a new space. After the furniture was set in place, I was left with the task of unpacking, but first I needed to return to my previous address and clean the condo.  I was exhausted and knew I just needed to do the next thing, one task at a time and then I could collapse. Yet another three hours passed and I said goodbye to the rooms that made a home for me these past five years, my refuge and retreat. It was a bittersweet moment. For the exception of the movers I did it alone, or so it seemed, until I looked back at all the ways I was supported. I received help from my sister Tami and her husband Ron before the move, when I schlepped 15 boxes of stuff from my storage unit to sell or give away at her patio sale. The night before the move my friend Rene’ helped transport precious cargo of artwork and delicate or difficult possessions to pack, and more importantly provided social contact from my off-the- grid isolation.  There was an 11^th hour phone call from my ex offering her help, countless texts and voice mail from friends, and finally an invitation and a matinee ticket to Wicked to take a break post move.

I know in fact good Karma and the love and support of friends and family buoyed me as I occupied your minds and hearts. Thank you for being my safety net and backup plan. I could not have done this without you.

Totes

Yesterday, after journaling and showering and assessing the job ahead of unpacking, my wireless internet, phone and cable were reconnected. I was back online. I was still exhausted from the day of the move, the adrenalin that fueled the effort kept me from sleeping soundly, plus hyper vigilance as I listened to the unfamiliar sounds of my home. After bringing up the final three loads of cleaning supplies and totes from my car, I sought respite and went to a movie matinee to see a colorful film, shot in black and white,  Frances Ha about a young woman without a home of her own and clear direction, played by Greta Gerwig, who lives temporarily with a series of people as she explores love, relationships and seeks meaningful work. In the end she finds a home and fashions a life of her own.

New Construction

The sky today is solidly blue, no clouds or humidity in the air, a fresh breeze carries the sounds of construction outside my window as another building rises. My home abuts a bike path, parallel to railroad tracks. I live in a vibrant city. There are only a few trees nearby, yet the birds sing to me this morning, welcoming me to the neighborhood.  When I left my condo, the last good-bye was from the house finch that lived nearby.

Today I’ll unpack, find my bearings and my belongings. Everything will find its place again and everything will be okay. Tomorrow I return to work and my day-to-day. Home again.