I turned a big corner today. My nine-year-old grandson came in early for school, and his mom said he had something to tell me.
“I’m looking at my new house,” he said with a huge grin.
When I asked if he was pleased, he said, “Yes, ma’am.”
So I guess that makes it official: I’m moving to the guest apartment, once we get it remodeled and a kitchenette added, and Jacob and his parents are moving into the main house—probably it will take us a year to get it all done, but we have great plans.
If you follow this blog, you will know I’ve had increased mobility problems, now walk with a cane all the time, and have made an arrangement with a neighbor to go with me on errands. All this has occupied a lot of my time, particularly my “worry” time. In addition, I have known this big move was coming for a while. Last Friday I woke up with the clear thought that I should move into the apartment, not Jordan and Christian who planned to use it as a master bedroom suite. All this has and will continue to keep me distracted. Probably the turmoil in my life is why I sometimes feel I should play pin the tail on the donkey to see which of several projects I complete. So far, the result has been that I done precious little except to start two new projects, about 500 words each—a long, long way from a completed book.
My children are anxious to be reassured that I don’t feel like the little old lady being shoved out to the back house—I guess we’re going to call it the cottage. In truth, I’m kind of excited about it. I mostly live in my office (which I’ll keep at least at first), the kitchen and my bedroom. The living room is mostly used for happy hour, and the dining room for small dinner parties, to which the Burtons are included. So not much will change—we will entertain together, though I have told some friends they’ll have to learn to open the electronic gate and come down the driveway to me. I expect I’ll eat supper in the main house and maybe lunch.
Today I announced I want the sheets that are on the double bunk beds out there—blue and yellow plaid and pattern, mixed. That’s going to be my color scheme. The bunk beds will come inside for Jacob, who said, “I can start bringing stuff over here.” We assured him it was a little early.
In many ways—the move, the mobility problems, the uncertainty about writing—seem signs of aging. Believe me, I’ve thought of that often. But I prefer not to see them that way. I heard the architect mention ramps, and I whirled and said, “I’m not in a wheelchair. And I intend to get better, not worse.” I think that’s how I feel about turning this corner in my life—it’s going to make a lot of things better.
A writing friend chooses a word for her life each year. I forget what 2015 was, but for 2016 she chose “fruition.” I asked if I could borrow it, because I think a lot of good things will come to fruition in the coming year.
Thanks for hanging in there with me.