It's a Long Jump

I've been feeling a strange little stirring for the past few days.  No, I'm not pregnant, so it's not that kind of stirring.  It's a restlessness, an unsettled feeling, a -dare I say it- need for change.  Change and I aren't usually on speaking terms.

Truth be told, I started this post about two months ago. And, yes, I'm still feeling this way.  Physically, there has been many changes.  Most of which I'm not happy about.  There's been emotional changes, too.  Those are way more complicated than any physical change could ever be.

After living in somewhat of a cocoon for five years or so, I feel like I am finally emerging and facing the world in a new way. I'm ready to take back things that were stolen from, or lost to, me.  I'm done hiding in the shadows, believing the lies spoken to me, about me.  But it's hard taking that first step!

I feeling like I'm teetering on the edge, in danger of falling from a cliff.  I also know, though, that the only way to fly is to be pushed out of the nest, with nothing to break the fall but the ground.  I think this step is harder the second time around. I did fly once.  I was strong, brave and courageous.  I was out there.  I was doing. And then I was shot down.  There was no blaze of glory. It was a fiery, hideous crash!  That experience makes it even harder for me to step off the ledge again.

Yet the stirring continues.

Sold!

Someone bought my house today.

It had been on the market for seven months. The hubby and I were both getting pretty close to the end of our ropes with the whole process. Keeping it perpetually clean and ever-ready for someone to come look at it was exhausting.  Now that aspect is over and a huge weight has been lifted.

We've had many good times in this home.  It's where our children grew up.  Friends gathered here, filling it with love and laughter.  It's been a safe haven, to us and others, in some very stormy times.  It has fulfilled it's purpose for us, for this time, and it's time to let go.  I feel like a new chapter is being opened.  Our children are grown and embarking on their own journeys in life.  The hubby and I are too. 

I am excited to see what this move holds and what is yet to come.  I long to be more involved where I volunteer; to not have to drive so far to get there.  I am excited to live in the city and be able to walk places, to explore my new community.  I look forward to living in a single-story house which will (supposedly) alleviate some of my health issues.  It all sounds so promising.

I am ready to move on.  While many of my memories of this place are wonderful and happy, some very painful things are also associated with this place.  Events I would prefer to forget: the loss of friendships, the death of beloved pets, foster children being returned to their family.  My heart is full, but also aches, when I look back on the life of this house. It's time to go, and I will cherish the memories.