Halfpast December -- cold and hard
It's Saturday the 17th. So far this week I've missed two phonecalls I promised to make on Wednesday, dithered and didn't make a payment I promised on Thursday, ducked an important conversation on Friday. Today, so far, I've been walking through negotiation minefields with folks I love about what can and can't happen, by when, with what result.
Just now it looks possible that we will get out of here before year-end, but only if we do everything at breakneck speed from now until then. Just now it looks possible that I might survive the breakup of a household of chosen family that I've been living in for 20 years. I am sadder than I can possibly express -- a sentence I have said to at least two of them, at least once. So far it's the most I've been able to say about it.
We moved in together with such high hopes. I thought at the time that all the concerns and reservations were voiced, but of course they were not. And some of what was voiced, of course I did not hear. Some things were said in all seriousness, and it turns out it accurately. But what I thought I was hearing was 'fear' and 'lack of confidence', not cold hard fact. I can't speak for what others heard or didn't, nor for which piece of it was a pipedream on whose part. But pipedreams there were, and with considerable valiant effort and much patience and forbearance, we have been unable, in the end, to manage it for the long haul.
This has been a lovely house to live in, to host family gatherings in, to hold the occasional party. We've done a little bit of ritual work and workshop work here, and the house has blossomed in those moments. I suspect we would have been better served if we'd built it in our 40s instead of our 50s, like so much else.
Our dear friends and housemates have moved out, into a two-bedroom unit in an over-55 community. The space looks like it will be adequate, the community seems supportive and delightful. Their unpacking has begun, with plenty of help, but is by no means complete. Here at the house, we have echoing rooms and empty spaces, but the cleaning up is over. What remains is the continuing process of weeding out and downsizing. And packing up what cannot be left for tenants to use.
If we can find a tenant for January 1 we can be out of here for the winter, trying out a new life of just the two of us, in a new warm climate with just enough built-in family and activity to feel grounded. If not, perhaps we will have to find a house-sitter. Or possibly some other solution. But first: packing.
Just now it looks possible that we will get out of here before year-end, but only if we do everything at breakneck speed from now until then. Just now it looks possible that I might survive the breakup of a household of chosen family that I've been living in for 20 years. I am sadder than I can possibly express -- a sentence I have said to at least two of them, at least once. So far it's the most I've been able to say about it.
We moved in together with such high hopes. I thought at the time that all the concerns and reservations were voiced, but of course they were not. And some of what was voiced, of course I did not hear. Some things were said in all seriousness, and it turns out it accurately. But what I thought I was hearing was 'fear' and 'lack of confidence', not cold hard fact. I can't speak for what others heard or didn't, nor for which piece of it was a pipedream on whose part. But pipedreams there were, and with considerable valiant effort and much patience and forbearance, we have been unable, in the end, to manage it for the long haul.
This has been a lovely house to live in, to host family gatherings in, to hold the occasional party. We've done a little bit of ritual work and workshop work here, and the house has blossomed in those moments. I suspect we would have been better served if we'd built it in our 40s instead of our 50s, like so much else.
Our dear friends and housemates have moved out, into a two-bedroom unit in an over-55 community. The space looks like it will be adequate, the community seems supportive and delightful. Their unpacking has begun, with plenty of help, but is by no means complete. Here at the house, we have echoing rooms and empty spaces, but the cleaning up is over. What remains is the continuing process of weeding out and downsizing. And packing up what cannot be left for tenants to use.
If we can find a tenant for January 1 we can be out of here for the winter, trying out a new life of just the two of us, in a new warm climate with just enough built-in family and activity to feel grounded. If not, perhaps we will have to find a house-sitter. Or possibly some other solution. But first: packing.