Selling my home is a peeling away of the layers of self. I feel vulnerable and exhilarated; I question my integrity – do I mention the tiny little downsides of living here? Though this particular process definitely is a Guinness World Record in patience, it is beginning to dawn on me that change is finally happening.
Unraveling and finding joy in knowing nothing remains the same and no matter how hard I have tried to imagine the future it has never been the image I held in my mind. Last weekend was three packed days of packing. I made many trips to the storage unit and tucked away out-of-season treasures. Winter coats, christmas decorations, garden sculptures and books went into limbo. This weekend it was a relief not to have to keep the house in “showing ready’ condition and to take time to ride. Night and I went out alone on Saturday, though we met other riders in the apple orchard, enjoying the cool lushness of Spring. Today it was a slow walk through the hills with a companion who would like to lease Night for three rides a week. I rode a farm pony and led the way, rewarded with how well Night took care of her rider. There were moments of slight confusion for Night when I wasn’t on her and she looked to me for reassurance. I think they will be good for each other.
The next six weeks will no doubt bring moments of stress and worry but for now, I have a plan. I have another garden to curate and a next chapter to write.
On another topic, I made myself stop working and indulged in reading a post by a blogger from my past. She wrote painfully and elegantly of the ebb and flow we all experience. And she wrapped it in the cloak of a question: Why do you write?
- Because one of these days, I’ll get it right and rainbows will appear, Unicorns will dance in a spotlight of sunshine and bluebirds will be a choir singing Disney songs.
- Because I owe something to the writers who take me away from the routine, bringing stories and people alive for me.
- Because there is less pressure in simply writing than in writing and publishing
- Because I may not remember this part of life as it really was…