This morning I’m drinking (2! cups of not-usually-had) coffee and sorting through my belongings to newly-discovered Patti Smith’s Horses. (I know! How on earth could I have just discovered her! I feel I’ve found a kindred spirit.) Laundry is swishing and rolling in the basement, and more packing will commence shortly.
After one year of living mostly on my own, I’m moving into the bottom half of a lovely house one town away with my sweetheart. And my daughter! (But she’s part-time. How do I express that? Because of course she is moving with us too.) By all accounts, this is a time of big transition. Moving forward deeper into the life I’ve deliberately chosen for myself and my family — amid the chaotic flux of moving into a new home.
In the past, moving has been an entirely stressful time for me. Especially as a kid; the experience was completely up-ending. Very little notice from my parents, and then boom! I’m in a new place, devoid of the familiar surroundings and people who had brought me comfort previously. But! This time I feel such a sense of calm. Even with usually-detested packing ahead of me. I kinda feel like I’m floating in joy. Embracing it!
Paring down, focusing on my vision, dreaming, moving on…