I trust myself. I trust my husband. I trust that the world we have built for ourselves will carry us through the hard times we face. Apartment hunting sucks. It's a three-pronged problem... Mr. E will start job-hunting, so we need a home that is relatively close to his workplace while simultaneously being relatively close to MY workplace. Where we live now won't cut it for both of us. We will need to move into a smaller home (house, apartment, covered alleyway). This doesn't bother me as much as the realization that we have to start downsizing in preparation. Because I need time to prepare. Because I try to be incredibly on-top of things. And lastly, selfishly, I don't want to move. I live here. I like it here. We can walk to Ralph's with Ripley and grab avocados in the evening. We can walk to the Circle to people-watch and enjoy Street Fair's and Christmas Specials. We can open the back door to our yard and let Ripley enjoy the sun as she pleases. She is my little sunbaby. I've painted and hung pictures, organized and fit our furniture to our home. We all fit here. Our bedroom is the perfect size for Ripley to spazz out before bed, running circles until her sweet blonde sides heave. Our small kitchen, though dark, holds the memories of Mr. E's grill lessons, baking parties, family potlucks with projectile vomiting and splattered salad dressing. I love each bit of it. I've carefully cultivated our color schemes- trying to find something light, cheery and calm, reflective of the sort of home I want to come home to, I want to invite others to. These objects are not permanent. The memories, on the other hand, will be with us forever. Think of what's important, what's lasting, Mrs. E. I am afraid to move forward. I am afraid to change. Jobs, addresses, neighborhoods. You would think a girl who has remembered moving 10 1/2 times would not be phased by this. And truly, it's not the packing or the un-packing that bothers me. It's the upheaval of what I recognize as my space. I don't want to give up what I worked so hard on. But this house is temporary. Fleeting. I am not my house. My family is not where we live. We are our home. And that goes with us everywhere. Breathe. Just remember to breathe. You are stronger than this change. You will be stronger for this change.
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Movin and Changin
I will not worry this year, because I trust that things will work out.