Big changes are happening in my life my at head-spinning rate. Seems these days are filled with task after task, taking me away from where I’ve been for the past several decades to… something new. The precise shape of that something is somewhat of a mystery, but I look forward to it in eager (but cautious) anticipation.
I’m less than one week away from closing on a new house-- my first ever on my own. Mind you, I’ve had apartments of my own from the age of 16 until the age of 24, but most of those were shared with a roommate or two. Then, at age 24, I met my future husband and I have been part of a family household ever since.
For me, moving to a place entirely my own is an enormous event in my life, and despite the excitement I feel, I’m also a little apprehensive. You see, my soon-to-be ex-husband tended to almost all of the “grownup” stuff: bills, insurance, investments, technology, household repairs… the list is too long to enumerate. And when I did try to tackle a task that was beyond my ken, I knew I could always call upon him to help me. “Pat, how do I…” “What’s this thingy for?” “What does this mean?” In so very many regards, he was more than good to me. He still is, and I am grateful beyond words for it, and for him. We’re great friends, and I hope we remain so. We just weren’t good as partners, a fact that was difficult for both of us to accept, particularly because the love remains (although it has long since evolved from a romantic love to a platonic love---almost like that of siblings). Sometimes we must acknowledge that love isn’t always enough, and that time has come at long last. I regret that we didn’t face this inevitability twenty years ago, as we should have, but I suppose regret is a waste of time. And so, as I prepare to bring my 32-year marriage to a close, I will do my best to hold on to the good and let go of the rest. And I will be forever grateful to Pat for the gifts he gave me: love, support, security, four beautiful children…again, a list too vast to enumerate. And though we close the book on our marriage, I know that we still have much to share in the years to come. He will forever be a part of my life, and I am grateful.
Now I’m beginning to learn so much that I had taken for granted: investments, insurance, budgeting (the horror!), minor repair work… I know that there will be myriad things I’ll have to tackle on my own from now on. I’ll have no one to carry the heavy stuff, no one to get the stuff I can’t reach on the high shelf, no one to be a second set of hands when I’m working on a project… but of course these are things I can and will work around. The hardest to let go of are the dreams I once had: sharing my life with a man I love; bouncing our great-grandkids on our knees as we sit together on the porch in our twilight years; family vacations (although maybe this could still happen); having someone to hold, and to be held in return. Ah, well… the world keeps turning and (forgive the cliché) when one door closes, another opens. Perhaps I’ll find that I like being single. Perhaps I’ll find love again. Who knows? Either will be fine by me.
In the meantime, I have a new house to turn into a home: a home uniquely mine. I can (and will) do whatever I want in this home. I will paint the walls whatever outrageous colors I like. I will furnish the interior without regard for anyone else’s preferences. I’ll play my music as loud as I want. I’ll read in bed into the wee hours and turn the pages as loudly as I want, too. I’ll stock the refrigerator as only I see fit. I’ll leave dishes on the counter for tomorrow if I’m tired. I’ll dance naked in the living room. I’ll sing off-key at the top of my lungs. I’ll let my dogs sleep with me in my bed. I’ll live life on my own terms within the home I create.
Yes, it’s an exciting prospect, but at the same time it sounds so woefully lonely---yet I don’t know why. Truth is, Pat and I have been living in separate dwellings for several years already, yet this was still our home together, and he has come here at least once a week every week to help with the maintenance of this huge house. So, though I’m already fairly well-versed in being alone, this seems so…final. So official. So REAL.
I won’t be able to expect his help as I have in the past. I’m sure he’ll still help me when I really need it, but not as before. He’s made that clear, and it’s certainly fair. And in the meantime, he recognizes that over the years, he’s allowed me to become dependent on him, so instead of leaving me high and dry, he’s teaching me things about computers, money, remote controls, etc., before I establish my own household.
So…on my own. And I close on my house in six short days.
I have a lot to do in these final days, so I need to get cracking. But one of today’s missions has nothing to do with my new house; rather, it is to do with my other home, my Pensacola playhouse; Avant Garden. Unable to find fencepost caps to suit my needs, I’m fabricating them myself. I’ve done a lot of some of the smaller tasks at that house, and though rather limited, I’m proud of my woodworking skill. Still, not everyone (whether man or woman) feels comfortable in a shop, but I do. And if I can’t buy it, I’ll make it! And so, I am. Silly little fencepost caps, made to specific criteria. Happily, working with the wood is a brief distraction from all the other grown-up stuff I have to do. And the best part? Fresh-cut cedar smells sooooo good!!!!
Until next time---
Happy Trails!
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