As followers of this space know, I am in the midst of a move from a place I’ve occupied for almost ten years to a new place in a part of the country that has always felt like home. This might be why I have been very busy these past few weeks, but not at all nervous or sad regarding this relocation. I’m going somewhere I have always loved and leaving behind somewhere I have never quite felt a sense of belonging. If I shed any tears on moving day, they will be tears of joy that something I have always hoped would happen is finally coming to pass.
Through a Glass Darkly
Brian and I have made three trips up north in the past six weeks, each with its own agenda and outcome. Back at the beginning of October, a weekend originally planned for leisure became our first opportunity to view a potential new home in Vermont. That opportunity fell through, but thanks to some timely conversations with friendly Vermonters met as we explored the local night life, soon after our return we learned about a new property in a different city and were making plans for another visit.
In mid October we drove to Rutland one morning, viewed what would prove to be our new home and by sundown were back in Somerville waiting to hear whether our application had been approved. It was, and ten days later we were driving north again to sign a lease.
Can’t See the Forest for the Trees
It was then that I allowed myself to see the apartment with eyes not protected by cautious doubt and fully embrace the reality that I would be living in Vermont, a place I had spent much time in, but never as a longtime resident. Last weekend we drove up to Rutland one more time to drop off some possessions we did not want to leave for the movers to handle and also to drop off some pieces at the Chaffee Art Center where we will both have work exhibited in their annual members show opening this week. I no longer felt like a visitor in town, but a native. I bought myself a new winter coat which will be the perfect attire for Vermont winter. As we drove back, and again passed by the herd of Jacob sheep that has been grazing alongside Route 4 as long as I can remember, I told myself that the next time we make the trip north it would be a one-way journey, bound for home.
As of this writing there are only 12 days left before the apartment I am now occupying is emptied and Brian, I and Little P head home. But before I can get there from here, I have to get everything boxed up and ready to go. Hard work yes, but happy.
Until next week, I wish you all hard work and happiness.