A taste of what’s to come

Don’s away and I just dropped Will off at a friend’s house.

I used to like driving at night.  I could see well in the dark.  Not anymore.  I don’t find night driving restful at all.  I wonder if it’s going to get even worse as the years pass.  Will I someday be unable to do any night driving at all. 

My mother can’t.  I used to think she had just gotten timid as she aged, but now I know that it was her eyes that aged, not her spirit. 

Or maybe it did too.  Maybe mine is as well. 

As I was tearing along the freeway, headlights on, peering into the inky darkness, a slight taste of apprehension and fear in the back of my throat, I was thinking to myself, I would only do this for one of my kids.  Driving to an unknown address at a time of night when I am generally tucked cozy in the house and flirting with the idea of going to bed.

But, I’m back.  Safe and sound.  Nothing untoward happened.

God, the house is quiet.  Both dogs asleep on the rug in the hall.  Just far enough away that I can’t even hear the gentle snuffles and grunts of their sleep breath.

This house is way too big. 

I had lunch with Ki______n yesterday.  “Your house is nice but it feels like you haven’t moved in.  There is none of that clutter, personal touches,“ she said.  And it surprised me.  Her forthrightness.  But even though it kind of embarrassed me, I had to admit was true as well.  I haven’t moved in here.  It doesn’t feel like mine.  It feels like somebody’s house that I am visiting.  A nice house, but nothing to do with me.  Even more so, I suppose, since last year, around this time, when I shipped most of the furniture that I had collected over the last 15 years to someone who needed it more than I did. 

My old-time bloggers know what I’m talking about. 

It was hard at the time.  Hurt like hell, but now, I look back and really, it was a gift.  The act of that set me free in a way that nothing else could have done.  Don and I got busy, used our writing money, refurnished the house.  Nice squishy sofas, new tables, new chairs, paintings.  But is there a connection?  Some yes, but to most of it, no. 

And when I sell this house, I will donate most of it, give it away.  Take only what the heart wants.  What will fit in the new place.  The smaller place that we won’t rattle around in like yesterday’s memories.

I am not looking forward to all of the work.  I am looking forward to having done it.  To the time when the downsizing will be completed and we will be tucked away in our cozy little house, with it’s postage stamp lawn and the water lapping at our feet. 

I can hardly wait until the work and worry of it is done and there is nothing left to do but write if I want to, eat cozy food, take long walks and enjoy.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Friday, January 23, 2009 in Chewing the Fat

Page 1 of 1 pages