I’ve always thought that anniversary thing was BS. I didn’t mourn my dad on the anniversary of his death (difficult because in real life he died on February 29…). I don’t even know what day my mom died. My brother? I know but I didn’t know it at the time…
But I definitely remember September 15. September 15, 2003, I closed the deal on my dream home in the mountains of San Diego County and moved in.
On September 15, 2014, I closed the deal on the same house and began the serious and final preparations for moving out.
We planned it that way, my real estate agent and I.
I didn’t feel much last year. Everything was focused on getting OUT and getting on the ROAD and finding a place to live. I arrived in Colorado on September 20, 2014 and moved into my new house four weeks later. Exactly. The deal didn’t close formally for five more days, but it didn’t bother anyone that I was living here while they finished replacing the roof.
The anniversary thing.
Yeah, this one I feel, perhaps because I couldn’t feel it then. Now I know how those 30 years affected my view of the world. How working in the way I did for so long formed me into a determined and highly focused person. I also, today, faced the reality that I didn’t really want to leave. I loved my house. Those mountains were easy, small, accessible and familiar. I also know, now, that no mountains anywhere are any different, really, except in matters of scale. The 7 inch waterfalls at Mission Trails Regional Park are no different from any waterfall here in the Rockies; they’re just smaller and harder to see.
But I learned to see them.
Still, I’m grateful I’m here. I was thinking this morning how great it is not to be working. I think I actually worked LONG past my sell-by date without knowing it because I had no choice. I’m grateful for the concatenation of events that let me to lose my job at City College and end up at San Diego State University long enough to get the wonderful retirement benefits I have now. Someone was looking out for me.
Lately I’ve also come to understand that I’m no longer obliged to prove anything to anyone. I can relax. No one’s looking any more; the race is over.
Thank you little house in Descanso for being a home and haven during hard times and for sending me off with enough money in my pocket to find a new house and a new life. Thank you for eleven years of your 90 year existence. You are beautiful and I hope everyone who moves into you loves you as much as I did — and do.