Six Months and One Day

Six months and one day. It has been six months and one day since we packed the remainder of our stuff in cars, put the cats in their carriers, and signed reams of papers in two different states. Six months and one day of being bombarded with new. Our new house is coming together. My husband likes his new job. We had to get new license plates and new drivers licenses. I am learning to meet new friends. We have tried dozens and dozens of new restaurants. We’ve had to find new doctors, dentists, and optometrists. All of this new has at times been jarring, kind of like a drive on a narrow, curvy two lane country road. You never know what is around the next bend. We are discovering how to navigate the route, but, I must admit, some of it has not been easy. When I moved around in my younger years, I crammed all my belongings in my car and took off, never looking back. This move, though, has been exhausting and complicated. Our lives were uprooted from the known to the unknown, and every blind turn gives us something to either learn or unlearn.

We are discovering how to live new lives while holding onto old attachments. We miss our families, our breakfast joint, and our slew of friends. My husband misses his golf buddies. I miss hanging out with my sister on the weekends and practicing yoga with my tribe. We both miss Sunday dinners with the grandchildren, crayons scattered all over the family room floor, and playing piggy back and stacking towers of blocks only to watch them fall.

Instead we have Sunday FaceTime visits with the kids and occasional trips back home to check up on things. We are quickly learning, especially with the holidays approaching, that everything is different. Our house was the gathering place, but no longer. We will improvise and create fresh memories. Everyone will be okay, because traditions are not meant to be dictated with a permanent Sharpie. Instead, they can be erased and rewritten, fitting the new flow of our lives.

Six months and one day of new. Most of it positive. Some of it frustrating. All of it a unique adventure in this New Town of ours.

We keep moving forward, opening new doors, and doing new things, because we’re curious and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths.

— Walt Disney
 Our New Town
Our New Town

Now What?

Since last December our lives have been a series of “We can’t wait for’s.” We can’t wait for the house to sell. We can’t wait to find a new house. We can’t wait for the inspection to be completed. We can’t wait to sell what we don’t need. We can’t wait to pack everything. We can’t wait to close on both houses. We can’t wait to unpack everything. We can’t wait for the wood floors to be installed.

Now, suddenly, the “can’t wait for’s” are no longer. Pictures are on the walls. The new floor is beautiful. Plates are in the cupboards. Glasses are displayed in hutch. This house has become our home.

But…but, now what? My husband has been ensconced in his new job since January. He is comfortably settled into his position and his routine. I, on the other hand, am staring blankly out into the future with no real plans in sight. Yes, I have been retired for two years, but these past 24 months have been bumpy, uncertain, and slightly nauseating, and now that we are settled into our new community, I ask myself, “Now what? What do I do with this life of mine? What does the universe want from me? What do I want from the universe? What is my path? What do I want to be when I grow up?”

As I ponder these questions, I realize the answers aren’t clear. Everything is slightly foggy. But you know what? This is okay. At the moment I am comfortable in the mist of unknowing. It is as though I have a deck of possibilities laid out on the table in front of me, yet there is no rush to pick up the cards. I gaze upon each one with careful consideration. Do I continue writing? Should I attempt to monetize my blog? How about freelance writing? When do I continue writing that young adult novel I began last fall? What about a side business proofreading and editing? How do I market myself? Should I look into volunteer work? If so, what is a good fit for me? What about my love of baking pies? Could I turn that into a part-time business? Or do I just write about pie? 

All of these cards beckon to me. I breathe. Now is the time to meditate, to contemplate, to examine. Where do I land? With each moment comes new promise. Stay tuned.

“The beginning is always today.” – Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

“Every moment is a fresh beginning.” – T.S. Eliot

“Isn’t it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet?” -L.M. Montgomery