Moving Day Cometh

I picked up the phone and started pulling triggers.  I signed the contract with the movers, locked in a date to pick up the keys, then bought a one way ticket for me and Scarlett, my opinionated ginger tabby.

"You're going to be a beach cat!"  I told her.

She squawked in opposition then turned and flipped me the tail on her way out to the patio.

I can't say I blame her.  Scarlett went through 2 moves during the year she lived with my mom in Kansas while I traveled around the world making TV shows.  She didn't like the idea of being a snow cat either and she doesn't like change.  She started acting nervous when the furniture started disappearing, and seems to be in a state of pre-trauma now that the boxes are piling up.  She hides under the bed when the tape dispenser starts screeching.

Moving sucks.  I want to hide under the bed too.  There is always so much more stuff than I anticipate.  I've already made 2 additional trips to the hardware store for boxes and it looks like I'll have to make yet another before the movers show up on Tuesday.  I really thought when I bought this place, that I'd have it indefinitely, maybe rent it out and make some money off of it once I got married or moved away.  I always knew Los Angeles wasn't my forever place, but I didn't think I'd be cutting tail 6 years in.  27 year old me was so naive.  33 year old me knows that life is unpredictable, much like the modern housing market.

I'm excited about the new landing spot, though.  It's a beautiful place I picked out on a map and, when I visited, found an immediate connection with it.  I'll be living three blocks from the sea in the Pacific Northwest in a little town called Seaside, population 6,500.  It couldn't be more different from LA, population gazillion, where community is a word you have to look up in the dictionary.

It occurred to me today, that I don't actually know how to be a member of a real community.  In fact, this morning I heard the new baby crying from the condo next door and realized I'd never even thought to bring them a casserole or offer any kind of help like a neighbor in a real community would do.  I wished the zombies congratulations when I saw them in the elevator a week ago, but aren't neighbors supposed to support one another and be the village it takes to help raise each other's kids?  Maybe if I had my own kids I'd have been more tuned in, but as it stands, I'm just another reason Los Angeles lacks a sense of community.

It will be interesting being a big city girl gone "new community member" in a small town.  During my most recent visit to find an apartment, I got back to the inn where I was staying and told Don, the old property manager,

"Don!  I found a place!"

"I heard!" he shouted back.

Wha...?  He heard?  I had put down the deposit two hours ago.  Maybe at 33 I'm still a bit naive.

A Home and a Life in Transition

I listened to a Deepak Chopra meditation today about how our outer worlds reflect our inner worlds. Looking around at my own outer world I had to laugh.  It's dead on.  It is a home in transition.  I am a woman in transition.  It is a perfect match.  Well said Deepak.

My artwork has all been taken off the walls, neatly packed, and is resting on the dining room table.  The curtain rods are leaning against the kitchen wall, their hardware in baggies taped to the sides.  The curtains themselves have been washed and folded and are also on the dining table waiting to be boxed up.  There are two big piles on the floor, one of things to give away and one of things to take with me.  There is a bookshelf disassembled on the floor in the living room waiting to be picked up and taken to its new home.  There are about 20 wine glasses on the counter from my 30th birthday party in wine country that, though sentimental, won't justify the real estate in the downsized cupboards of my future.

Looking around my home today, I realized I'm not sad or scared anymore.  The grace and ease of this transition have replaced the fear and sadness with a sense of calm, peace, and  patience.  As soon as the timing is right I'll be free to move on from here and onto a simpler life with less stuff and fewer ties.

Yes, I am a woman in transition and this is a home in transition.  It's not clutter, it's not chaos, it's simply me and my home transitioning; me to a new home and it toward a new occupant.  My mind is clear, my intentions are set, and with each piece of furniture I sell I feel better, lighter, freer.  It's thrilling really.  It means I'm getting closer and closer to my new life and to new experiences.  I'm coming to the end of one chapter and anxiously anticipating the next.