i've mentioned here and there that change is hard. maybe i grew up with the idea that things should always be consistent and reliable and that holidays will always involve alcohol and that driving to see the one that i love will always mean that it's pouring rain, snowing, or every semi driver is intent on taking both lanes at exactly 62 m.p.h...
i met with a realtor, my realtor yesterday. i've known for awhile i'm moving. but this makes it real. in a way that means these beautiful drapes, perfect crown molding and antique fireplace... are soon going to belong to someone else.
i've promised that i'd keep my freaking out to a minimum - which clearly translates to how i'm just gonna go ahead and rant on my blog - but that it would be ever present. lets just say i'm reasonably... scared as shit. i'm finding myself offering to babysit my friends kids, spontaneously grabbing them for sushi or late breakfasts on sunday and knocking on neighbors door with the hopes they'll walk their dog with mine. He said it well when his mother asked how i was doing with this move. he said it perfectly. 'i'd be just as freaked out giving up so much of myself if i were the one selling my house and moving there'. any doubters on how wonderful this man is should read that quote again. the occasional random outburst like the one where i said i was going to get an apartment because what if me 24/7 was too much after 280 miles of distance? by the way, his response to that was it's off the table and if he wants me out then he'd make sure the spa he sent me to would be nothing short of heaven. any doubters still? yes, there's still me.
it shouldn't be hard so why do i keep making it?
maybe believing gets harder as we get older. maybe its impossible to believe the possible when you get to this age. when exactly did i start having those conversations with my other single friends that we'd share neighborhoods, clothes lines and bloody marys while playing gin on sundays? when did i give up and why is it so hard to let it go? i mostly believe that i was just preparing myself for the worst.
my realtor is perfect for this job. in way that i need. during our visit she told me she believes everything happens for a reason. the market, my job flexibility, my relationship are all falling into place to give her the opportunity to sell in this awful market where every other house on the market is foreclosed, abandoned or for sale due to divorce (i of course believe due to the market and cost of living). we'll figure this out together. and in the end i'll be living in a house with this man that gets me, loves me, and is someone i somehow haven't scared away.
and so i'm going to do this one day at a time. being excited about what's to come makes it scary. but planting flowers today helped remind me that i'm still here. for now. and what happens next, i'll remember to enjoy. when it happens.
