I knew it was time to move on. Deep inside me I knew a change of location was needed; not just needed but necessary. I knew more changes were needed but the location change thing was something I could do to show intention to God.
This change… this starting over was bittersweet. You see I’d lived in a relatively remote country setting for more than 17 years. Partly with a husband and partly with just me and my cats. Later I’d add a few chickens to the mix… just because. Those days were good and hard and taught me volumes. The lessons could fill tomes and I may delve into some of those subjects at a later time but for now… this starting over is foremost in my mind as my first Spring in this new place is around the corner. I can smell spring and it smells like hope.
I started planning for this move, this new start, more than a year before it would be actualized. I also started working on the old place to make it “move-in ready” (to quote my realtor). Heck that place was never move-in ready and yet I lived there. With projects everywhere you looked and with a lean pocketbook I learned how to repair and build things. I became quite proficient with a circular saw and chop box. I installed knotty pine and trim. I caulked, cleaned and painted. I swept and shoveled and purged. I’d actually been doing all those things for a while but with a finite amount of time before listing the place it was a full-on push toward move-in ready mode. I think back to those many months and wonder sometimes how I ever did it.
My plan at the time was to find a nice little ranch house with space to teach painting and drawing. The market was hot at the time and houses were moving quickly and at high prices. I began to think even if I could sell my place I might not find anything and me being without a home brought panic to my thoughts. It took a while to get an interested buyer in my remote country home and once that deal was on the table my search began in earnest with nothing surfacing that I could afford in a location where I could visualize myself… and then just as I was about to pull the plug… Walla!
I moved to this lovely old but new home last August. I’d always dreamed of living in an old home with history and character. I had such romantic ideas about old houses with white clapboard, porches and metal roofs and the inhabitants I just knew were immensely happy. How could they not be… living in such a lovely old home with history so far-reaching that words like Great-Great-Great were commonplace.
To be continued…