The music is brighter here.
All the boxes are unpacked, and everything is place. We now have half the cars and half the living space we had just half a year ago.
The decisions came easier the more we made them together. The burdens vanished.
It seems we’d figured it out. Life is for living.
He never sat me down and said, I am no longer writing.
Instead of checking emails or coming here to our writing place, he set up the new space for his guitar and music stand. His fingers nanced about the strings and beauty filled our new space.
I heard it in the notes and the way he played them.
Just days after moving in, he told me, I am so happy.
I knew he was not long for this writing world.
The renovating and the packing prevented me from doing much else.
Preparing a house for sale is tiresome. We had not the interest in our 1,400 square feet in some time, and now we had to make it our grand priority.
I was not writing.
My energy came from knowing that we would be moving out and moving on.
And so it has come to this day just one week after we had moved in.
I decided that it was time for me to explore other genres and styles of writing.
We talked, and he said, It is ok.
And so we will be living The Great Jollyhoombah and not writing about it. We will still talk to squirrels and walk a good deal of our days away.
I will think about everyone we have met, as will he.
If we have made a day a little brighter or caused a smile, it has all been worth it.
We loved getting to know you.
It is far from our style to tell anyone how to live a life, but do live it.
For a long time, we didn’t. We sat. We reacted. We grumbled.
And one day, and then the next, and the one after that, we chose love. We chose fun.
We want to thank each and every one of you who has taken time out of your day to read our zany words. We will be forever changed in the very best of ways for sharing this time with you.
In my bed, I lie awake.
The lights from passing cars dart across the ceiling of the guest room. The blinds are thin, nearly transparent, and I can see the tops of the trees swaying slightly in the breeze.
Tomorrow morning I will awake to the room awash with sunlight and the now black leaves will be their fall yellow. It is never truly winter here.
For now, it is dark and quiet – not quiet, quiet, not quiet – as the cars pass by on our rather busy street. Sirens wake me some nights.
It’s funny how two bathrooms and a hallway prevented them from reaching us before – back before we decided to sell this house and the painters came, and we moved about from room to room, finally settling here in this smaller space.
Our room across the hall is ready for someone else. Someone else will take the first shower in the renovated bathroom.
I like this space. I even sleep better, but perhaps that is only because it is temporary.
The fact remains that we are moving out, moving on. Only a week or two remain, perhaps less.*
But I feel at peace here with the trees and the headlights and the shadows on the ceiling.
I pull in a breath as I lie here on my side, looking over the silhouette of my husband’s neck and shoulder and out into the night. I let it out slowly, but I do not close my eyes.
I don’t want to miss a thing.
*This was written approximately ten days ago. We have since moved into our new place.
And you, Jolly one? What experiences have you had with seeing things from a different perspective?
We were hemming and hawing about cancelling our weekend getaway to the San Antonio Riverwalk. After all, the focal point of all our trips is walking and lots of it. Several weeks of aches and extreme fatigue did not seem conducive to a Weekend Walk-a-thon, yet we kept our plans.
Hope Around the Bend
The drive takes not three hours, and we were checked in to the hotel and on the winding walk around the river by early afternoon. To say that the next three days were quintessential perfect days is a huge understatement.
Not a trace of the aches and pains remained as we strolled the weekend away. The air not cold nor warm on our skin paired with the clear blue skies provided the antidote no doctor could prescribe. We followed the paved path that winds it way through the commercial mecca of restaurants and trinket shops.
We walked beyond the fabricated entertainment to where the path had been extended and explored new territories.
What happens on many of these little getaways is that our usual daily conversations take on a different tone. As we strolled along, my proclamations of a complete recovery were met with smiles and a gentle hand reaching out to take mine. It was as if we were making a commercial for the San Antonio Riverwalk – the kind that makes you want to vomit a little in your mouth and refill your drink before The Voice comes back on.
Why not be happy and settle in a bit, enjoy the scenery and the large, orange squirrels we rarely see in Houston? While we did, the meanderings on foot and in our conversations led us down a road we had been traveling with more frequency in recent months: New Abode Road.
We are in our early 40s and running two successful businesses, so why not?
The weekend of perambulations and fall zephyrs had come to an end. Gravity pressed us once again to Earth. We knew what needed to be done.
By the time we’d had breakfast on Sunday morning and took our final walk along the river, by the time we hopped into our tiny car and headed east on Interstate 10, we knew that our house was not long for our world.
In fact, no house will be in our world.
Healthy, happy, and houseless.
And you, Jolly one? What schemes and dreams are you tinkering with these days? Please share in Comments.
Our book, The End of Wishing Our Days Away, is still free through the end of December.
The big red bows and twinkling lights whisper of the joys or impending doom of the season.
We hope you are looking forward to the holidays or at least have a plan of escape.
That is where we come in.
Our book, The End of Wishing Our Days Away, is free on Smashwords through December 31st. Coupon code: RA38P
Talk about a gift that won’t bust your holiday budget. And it is eco-friendly to boot.
CJ and Tammy
The Kitty scurried over the meadow, the wind at her tail, the sun on her Kitty whiskers gleaming. When the dark crept, so did she with the serpents of the grass and her tiny beetle friends. The hoo, hoo, hoo – hoot owl paralyzed her nightly.
The Piggy waddled through the forest, sniffing at tree roots and lying under the ferns to rest in the heat of the day. When the shadows descended, he whispered his oinks into the damp forest floor and got bits of earth stuck in his snout.
The Kitty and the Piggy trolled their domains foraging and crying for many months, perhaps years. No one knows. The sun rose as did the moon. The winds blew and abated. The rains poured and they were sad and sick, hiding in their burrows made of leaves and twigs.
The Kitty came to the edge of the meadow and she marveled at the wall of trees and green, leafy plants. Some had berries. Others had none. She sniffed the air and raised her gaze to the tree tops. Then she peered into the gloom, squinting. She licked her self clean, napped and returned to the meadow.
The Piggy came to the edge of the forest and the sun glared angrily. The wind carried not the susurrations of gentle avian melodies, but a wild lament that sent him darting back into the forest. He found one of his many fern groves and lied down his weary self.
Many moons passed before the Kitty or the Piggy reached the ends of their world’s once more. The Kitty stood peering, her tail raised high. The Piggy suspiciously surveyed, scuffing the earth, marking his territory.
A mockingbird screamed and dove from a nearby perch. Just before a hasty retreat into the forest, Piggy’s eye caught the mocking bird’s target. Terror failed to turn his attentions from this strange and beautiful creature. A discarded pine cone came hurdling through the branches and bounced off Piggy’s back. He let out a wailing squeal and leapt into the meadow. He shot Squirrely a baleful look. The mocking bird returned to its perch.
Kitty and Piggy saw each other and they were shy for a long spell. What followed was a joyful squall of licking and sniffing – oinking and meowing! Mocking bird and Squirrely were happy witnesses.
Do you think this story is fact or fiction? Please share in comments.