As we flipped the calendar to May it marked our last month of living in this comfortable ranch we have called home for over 15 years. I don’t count myself as nostalgic for the most part, but I do take note of the things we won’t ever do here again, or a long series of lasts. For example, in April, we made our last payment on this house, which marked the first last that I noted. But before that we had our last Christmas and Thanksgiving here, which were unbeknownst to us at the time. Shortly after our last house payment, we had our last Easter, and now, in this last month, there will be innumerable lasts. Small things like the last time we bring the trash to the curb, will actually feel monumental.
When I ran in the woods last week, I noticed the trilliums in bloom, and realized that I won’t enjoy them here again next year. As I always do, I stopped to enjoy them, but this time with a touch of melancholy, knowing that this annual gift that I delight in will go on next year without me here to partake in their beauty.
In my eagerness to leave, to move on to our dream house, I am loath to leave this home without recognizing the provisions we have enjoyed here for so long. I hope to say a long goodbye, recognizing a series of lasts in which I give gratitude for all that we have enjoyed here.
Even as I type that, I am reluctant. I have a root of bitterness because these past 15 years have been a protracted series of hardships which inundated us. When I think of this place I think of years of chaos, and frankly, I yearn to leave the chaos here when we go. I leave this place in hopes that we leave behind things like back and neck surgeries, GBS, family deaths, and all the many, many ailments Ben has encountered. We have cried too many tears here, and I covet a change, not only in setting, but in the depth and breadth of hardships we will face.
I have given myself permission to hope again, after long since relinquishing all optimism and resigning myself to simply enduring.
Yet this home has been a safe place to land, a place where we have lived and loved and grown together, a shelter from the world. In the comfort of this place we have become unified, strong, and resilient. May this home provide the next family who lives here such warmth and shelter.