You know me. Or, at least you know most things about me; I'm not the philosophical type. At least, I didn't think I was. This latest move has taken me to a kind of zen place about my actual place in the world. More than once over the last few days, I have heard myself utter this little cliche: everything happens for a reason. It may sound pithy, but the phrase has accompanied me through anger, denial, acceptance, and all the other things. But, here's what you need to know. No person died; a house did. Or rather, my home did.
See, I attach to things really fast. I've always named my cars, I get immediate vibes about the "liveability" of a house, and I am unnaturally drawn to my laptop. A key broke, it will cost $175 to repair, and yes, I am considering it. So, the last house, I REALLY attached to it. It wasn't perfect, but it was down the street from the kids' school, it was central to a part of town we really love, and there was a super great breakfast place just blocks away that do amazing things with a feta and artichoke omelet. While I lived there, I never thought I could find a better place. Then, it turned out I had to.
You've been following the blog, so you know the searching was really intensive. At the end there were two places I liked, both in the price range, the right area and the right school district. A decision had to be made, and I had to make it. Now, I don't come naturally to change. Some people embrace it, and go willingly and joyfully into that unknown good night. My brother is one of those people and I envy him fiercely for his ability to just go with the flow. He never frets about anything. He just lets life happen. He tells me that wherever I am, that's where I'm supposed to be. In the past I have looked at him like he just threw up on me and quickly consulted my Blackberry to see what I'm supposed to be doing or where I should be going.
But recent changes in my life have caused me to reevaluate the way I operate. Unemployment, a cancer scare, and uncontrolled upheaval has given me a new perspective. I thought, what better time to put my new attitude into play than now, in the Big House Decision.
So, I did nothing. It about killed me, but I did nothing. And I shit you not, where I sit typing this, is exactly where I am goddamn supposed to be. This house is great. This house chose me, it loves me and I can see me loving it back. There is a peacefulness and zen calm about it. So what if boxes are all over the place? Who cares? I'll get to them. I haven't written any stories yet, but the notepad on my iphone is filling up. So many ideas are flooding me. I feel like I am doing the virtual equivalent of rubbing my hands together in perverse anticipation of the gush of words waiting to let fly. And I have no doubt that they will.
I let life happen and surprisingly wonderful things happened in return. My kids found great friends across the street, who will go to the same school as them, and their parents don't have third eyes or anything. My Mum came and loved the place. And more stunning, I have slept here three nights now and not awakened once during the night, something I always have done, most of my life. I just go to sleep and wake up in the morning. What a concept!
I have always had a personal motto of: That which does not kill me, only makes me stronger. Then, in a more literary sense, I adopted a new motto: Write, publish, and be informed. This one was born of my low-down dirty dealings with The Publisher Who Shall Remain Nameless. Now, I have a new one: It is what it is. In other words, wherever I am, that's where I'm supposed to be. And tonight, I am home.
What's your personal motto?