Water is such an excellent metaphor/medium when I think about this life of mine. At times I have been out to sea. Adrift, drowning, occasionally frozen. Pummeled by one big wave only to have another come crashing down the moment I came up for air.
I love water. My childhood home abutted an irrigation pond the size of a proper lake. I spent winters skating and summers swimming. When iced over, the pond would sometimes groan just before a crack ripped across the surface. In summer I would lie with my face pressed to the boards of a wooden raft, watching as fish schooled in the green dappled water below.
In terms of metaphor, the last few months have resembled a tsunami. As indicated previously, moving was not my choice. Originally my landlord wanted me out by June 1 but we reached an ‘agreement’ allowing me to stay until August 31. That meant I had a little less than four months to pull it all together—locating housing, packing up, moving. My almost three week trip to Italy had already been planned, and I also traveled for advocacy. So four months quickly became three.
Physically, this is one of the most difficult tasks I have ever undertaken. As my loft had been a live/work space, it housed my vintage clothing business, art studio and the accoutrements of everyday life. I am also what is euphemistically referred to as a collector; inquisitive/acquisitive with books as one of my greatest sins. This was a monumental task.
However, I’ve learned a thing or two about crisis management. One foot in front of the other and don’t look down. I focused first on finding a new apartment. It had to be affordable, dog friendly, close to Boston. Ideally I would know someone in the area.
I put a lot of effort into finding just the right place but I also lucked out. Our new home is fabulous—the bottom floor of an old house in Bradford, MA. My dear friend Marc is half a mile away–I can walk there in under ten minutes and we are now in the habit of sharing a glass of wine on his front porch. With Marc’s help I located a dog sitter for Kumo three blocks away. The neighbors are wonderful and the mailman keeps dog biscuits in his pocket.
Moving proved incredibly stressful–at times both improbable and seemingly impossible. However, I am mighty proud of the fact that I got it done. Conceivably that mighty wave could have swept me under.
Instead I found a way to surf the damn thing.