Patterns

November 1, 2009


So much has happened at The Okey Dokey Ranch in the past month, it is hard to know where to begin.

Suffice it to say, the long-awaited arrival of Flash has more or less taken place. He keeps saying things like “when I get here,” as if he hasn’t moved in yet.  (I don’t think he considers himself “here” until the house is arranged to his liking; we’re not there quite yet, I am told.) Yet it seems like he’s here to me.  Much of his stuff is here.  And he’s rearranged so much of our living space, I feel disoriented in my own home.  Yet grateful.  Things had gotten pretty chaotic around here.  And this guy has the perfect combination of obsession and organizational skills to tackle things like building shelving and rearranging furniture and CDs until things make more sense. 

And they do.

Even though I am looking forward to our continuing journey, the patterns I created with Marley and Avery after Mike’s death have been disrupted, leaving me feeling somewhat  dazed and unfocused.  For instance, this afternoon, Flash built shelves in the cabinet where the trash can used to be.  Tonight, while preparing dinner, I must have opened that cabinet 25 times meaning to throw trash away, although the trash can had been moved to a different location in the kitchen.

Back in the summer when we were discussing his imminent move here, we talked about the impending adjustment period.  As I thought about the implications of this move for Flash (huge, almost beyond comprehension why anyone would voluntarily subject themselves to my household in such a permanent way), CC, and Marley and Avery, I didn’t include myself in the equation.  Somehow the adjustment period really didn’t seem as if it would apply to me.

But now now that my patterns are changing, I realize that I am not exempt to the adjustment period.  And I’m not just talking about trash cans here.  It’s way bigger than that.

It is, however, change by choice and it is welcome.  But still, almost daily, I find myself feeling surprised to be experiencing a new love affair in my forties.  I never expected life to take such a turn.

And it feels okay.  If a bit surreal.

But it becomes more real every time I throw something in the trash can.

 

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