As in moving truckin'. Exactly two years ago right now I returned to Sonoma from Chicago. At that time I was invited to move in with my sons until I got on my feet. Until I found a job and decided where I wanted to live. Well I found my job a few months in and it was 35 miles away. So I entertained the notion of moving closer to work. But Mom needed me here in Sonoma, and there was nothing I could find in Marin County that was affordable and bigger than a studio. So I lingered at the Mancave. The Mancave which became the Famcave when Camille and I moved some estrogen in.
Time passed and I lingered. It was easy. But a few months ago I realized that enough was enough. My gracious cubs kept mama bear around for a long time. But boys need to be boys. And girls need a clean bath mat and a whole night's quiet sleep. It was time to move on. And so that is what I am doing. I found a sweet little place on the creek in Glen Ellen. Sweet. Little. A quiet peaceful dwelling where the glass doors off of my bedroom open onto a deck above Sonoma Creek. Where there are white towels rolled on the shelf in my bathroom. Towels that will probably stay white for a long time. Birds singing and ducks swimming by. Nothing in the cupboards but what I allow myself to eat these days. My music fills the rooms.
And I move on with a heart full with gratitude for my sons who so lovingly and unquestioningly welcomed me home. I know the memories created in the Famcave will be dear to me forever. For a Mama to be that loved and welcomed by her boys.
So here I sit this morning full of grace indeed. I am graced by goodness.
Here is a photo I took early this morning outside my bedroom door:
There is simplicity in my life that I have not known before. I'm moving with discipline. Slowly. A box at a time. I'm sorting before I pack. I'm paring down in a great way. So far my new home is clear and there is an immense freedom in that. Oh so simple. Of course I'm sure in the eyes of the folks who write one of my favorite blogs: The Tiny House I still have a lot. But within my history I'm beginning to do it differently. There is something to be said about the clarity of less. It's not easy. There is angst when I rid myself of something, each and every time I discard I ask myself, "Yikes, will I ned that and only have to buy it again?" This is a developing practice for me. I'm not a good decision maker. But the results of deciding to let go feel good.
Looking from my kitchen to my living room this morning. And I will add to it thoughtfully:
I pray for the discipline to remain once "big moving day" gets here.
So good morning. Welcome to Warm Springs Road. I am happy and grateful.