Maybe there’s a word for this nesting place. This place where perhaps we’re nexting, looking on to the Next Big Thing, finally, for the right reasons and at the same time, we’re right here. We are right here and open to NOWAYYOUARENOTCHANGINGATHING if that’s the message we receive. And we will still tantrum like the children we sometimes are because we’re not getting our way but then we’ll sit in the morning light and talk it out and let it go.
Whatever will be, will be.
We’re in flux and in the middle and ahead and behind and not any of those things all at once. We’re planning (sort of but not really because planning isn’t even the right word when you’re content with whatever) a move back to the Twin Cities. We’re working hard on our house, the house we absolutely adore, to make it ready to sell. Our hearts get heavy when we think of leaving it, or of leaving the street we live on where our kids have friends but we don’t. Friendship is just different here. I’m not judging or complaining, even. It just is what it is–a Midwestern Scandinavian sort of quiet isolation. Our hearts long for messy community, loud and pulsing and igniting followed by quiet mornings here and there for recovery.
We are biting off little bits at a time, painting cabinet doors, fixing and stepping back and looking through potential buyer’s eyes. We have such a beautiful home. We’ll find another one, and in it, our family will be loud and together. That sums us up. Loud and together.
If we look at the big picture. BIG MOVE. BIG PACKING. BIG STRESSES…we will surely stop and stall out and hunker down to stay because it’s just easier, in some ways, but it’s not. It’s not best and this is our one life and it’s best just as it is while there’s more potential for the things that matter most to us somewhere else. So we take a little bite and stay in this very day and try not to get ahead of ourselves too much. We do the daily things even though knowing a change is most likely coming kind of makes me want to stop doing laundry or dishes sometimes. As if everything is about to lift right out of here, magically.
We sip coffee and Ryan reads that day’s paper and we feed our kids and face that school day and that day’s messes and all the while, behind the scenes, we prepare, stepping lightly and floating a little above so we can see ahead just enough to paint or clean out or up and then sit back down in today.
I don’t know if there’s a word for that, but maybe it’s surrender or serenity or another recovery type of thing. I hope so. We’re making a life here and a life there, in unison. We’ll find our way no matter where we are and there is peace in that.