Dear Blogging Friends, Readers, Commentators,
and You Who Fit All Three Categories,
Today marks my blogging re-entry. In April, life became too complicated for me to write new postings. So I reposted eight stories from 2011. I didn’t respond to comments on these because I was pursuing a dream.
Many of you thought I spent April working on a memoir. I didn’t. I began the month by getting ready for a trip to Minnesota. On April 6th, I journeyed forth from my Independence home and headed north. For eleven days, I cavorted with friends of thirty-eight years—friends I’d left behind when I moved to Missouri three years ago.
At the Good Earth Restaurant with a friend.
In addition, I looked at a unit in a cooperative, three units in condos, a townhouse, and two refurbished houses. You see, this journey was a fact-finding one in which I sought answers to three questions: Could I financially afford to move back to Minnesota? Could I find a condo that would allow three cats? And . . . Had I romanticized my years in Minnesota? The answers, in order, are yes, yes, and definitely no.
A fourth question also presented itself: Did Meniere’s Disease still have a firm grip on my life? So much so that I wouldn’t have the psychic and physical energy to make a move?
As I met with friends, almost all of them commented on my vitality. My vim and vigor. The answer was swift and sure: Meniere’s has relinquished its control. Healing has taken place here in Missouri. That is one of the great gifts of my being here. I have come home to health.
Missouri has helped me come home in other ways. Part of that coming home is the acknowledgement that during those thirty-eight years I spent in Minnesota, the apricot sunsets, the multitudinous lakes, the acres of parks, the blustery winters, and the ever-changing political scenes rooted themselves within me. It is there I wish to spend my final years.
And so this past Thursday, a realtor placed my Missouri home on the market. I so wish I could move it to Minnesota and settle it gently on a plot of ground in some wooded area. But I’ve never learned the art of levitation, and so must find a new home for the cats and myself. Financially I must consider only what I really need, not what I simply want.
And what I need in a home is a bed in which to sleep, a kitchen in which to cook, an office in which to write my manuscripts and postings, and a space in which to place kitty litters for Ellie, Maggie, and Matthew.
During the last full week of April, a cousin from Seattle visited me for six days. Within her I met a wholeness that touched my life while she was here. Perhaps she knows the art of levitation. I didn’t ask because I needed a more immediate gift from her: cleaning the walk-in shower to make it presentable to a buyer.
She applied her considerable skills to this task. That bathroom is now pristine. So much so that I hesitate to take any more showers. It’s the other bathroom for me—the one with the tub. I know how to keep a tub clean as I did that in Minnesota. But perhaps you can suggest a product that will enable me to use the walk-in shower while keeping it looking factory new. If so, HELP!
So that’s the month of April. If you have any unassigned prayers, vibes, visualizations, good wishes, thoughts, energy, please send them my way. In this lifelong questioning of “Where and what is home?” I’ve lived in expectation of goodness. It just keeps rolling in, inundating me with the mystery of what being human means.
Peace ever and always to you.