Back to Our Future

Just when you think everything in your life is perfect and going smoothly, things can change abruptly sending you into a tailspin. SUCH is my life now.  Four years ago, my husband and I moved from the country to a city, so I could be closer to my mother, who was terminally ill. It was a difficult, but necessary move and it all happened rather quickly. After months of searching for the perfect home, my ceramics instructor told me of another one of her students who had to move quickly because her husband’s health was failing, and she needed to be nearer family for support. We met with her, shook hands, and made a quick “as is” deal. Before we knew it, we had parted ways with our country life.  

It took a while to adjust. The house needed much work and though we pushed ourselves and accomplished much, it wasn’t easy with back-and-forth trips to help my mother. We were living on adrenaline. On top of it all, COVID hit, turning the world even more on end. Since moving here, we lost my mother, moved Tom’s mother to an assisted living center, and sold both our mothers’ houses plus our old country house. We totally renovated the house we moved into, fought our own bouts with COVID, helped care for & homeschool our granddaughter when her school shut down during the pandemic, had two surgeries, re-landscaped the yard, made new friends, welcomed two new grandchildren, and finally began to feel settled. Yet like the old folk tale of the Princess and the Pea, something wasn’t quite right.

Sometimes the uneasiness would creep in at the strangest times. At a recent Fourth of July family fish fry, while people around us laughed and talked and children chased one another with sparklers, my husband heard the song of a wood thrush. He got up and walked away from the festivities, following the bird’s song to the nearby woods. It had been years since we’d heard one and the longing to be in the country tugged at his heart.  I too had my moments. It’s summer and my mind and body expect to be tied up in a garden.  I’ve planted many flowers at this home, but also a small, raised garden bed for vegetables.  Everything is ready for harvesting now. We’ve had onions, radishes, strawberries, green peppers, eggplant, and tomatoes. I stuck some asparagus and rhubarb in among the flower beds and wanted to keep planting. But alas, there simply wasn’t room for any more in our tiny backyard. I turned to foraging and began to harvest the wood sorrel, clover, purslane, lilies, and dandelions – not because I needed food, but because I so deeply needed the connection to nature. 

Two weeks ago, Tom and I packed a picnic and drove to a nearby lake for lunch and some birdwatching.  On the way home we took a wild goose ride through the country and came upon a humble little ranch house sitting at the edge of some woods. There was a for sale sign. At the same time, we both caught our breath.  We parked in the middle of the road pondering what was before us, then slowly drove away in silence. After a few seconds, I asked, “Should I call a realtor, so we can look at it?” His response was “Yes.” That was on a Monday. On Tuesday, we toured the property. Wednesday, we made an offer. Thursday the offer was accepted. Friday, we prepared to list our house on the market and headed to the bank for a loan. The next week the real estate listing went live, the new house had a home inspection, our loan is being processed and every day we work on packing up our belongings and periodically leaving the house so prospective buyers can tour our home.

To say we are filled with emotions is an understatement. We are stronger for the hard times we’ve survived, and proud of all the work and improvements we’ve accomplished. But we are also sad to leave our house and the comforts of daily habits we’ve established here.

I lay awake at night trying to figure out how our things will fit into the new house if I will have to part with beloved keepsakes, and if I can make the new house feel like “home.”

I voiced my concerns to a friend who responded – “you’ll make it a beautiful home because that’s what you do. You take a blank canvas and create something.”  I was touched by her belief in me. So, despite bits of sadness we’re feeling, we are also excited by future possibilities… bigger gardens to plant, favorite bird songs to savor, and living more in sync with the land and the seasons.  We may be seniors, but in our hearts still want to roam, play, explore, and grow big ideas. No doubt this next chapter in our lives will stir my writer’s heart and inspire me to write more children’s stories. I can hardly wait.

For this month’s children’s book review, you can read about House Mouse by Michael Hall, under the Recommended Reads section of the blog.