Good Bye to All That

I am one who is generally in touch with her feelings – sometimes too much so, but I recently had the strange experience of feeling something I couldn’t identify.  It didn’t take long, but there were a few seconds – maybe 20 - while I puzzled to name the sensation.

And then it came to me.  

I was relaxed.

It had been so long since I had been fully relaxed that the feeling was unfamiliar to me.  Sure, I had been relaxed-ish, but not fully there.  In truth it had been three-and-a-half years since I had known deep relaxation.

The stress began with my husband’s diagnosis of stage-four lung cancer and continued through his treatments and death and a car accident and my selling my house and moving into an apartment.  So much grief and sorting and packing and donating, and then the move, which necessitated unpacking and settling in.* 

Whew!

Only after I had been in my new place about a month did I experience the unfamiliar moment of relaxation. I’m not going to pretend I have been steadily relaxed since that moment, but the feeling is becoming more common and less surprising as time passes. 

And what a blessing this move has been.  I thought I would take it easy for a year and then look for a small house to purchase.  But after only a couple of weeks, I began to appreciate the wonders of apartment living. If something needs repairing, I have only to put in a work order, and it will be speedily tended to. I won’t have to arrange and pay for someone to clean (or replace) the roof or the gutters or to fix or replace an appliance if it breaks.

In fact, just yesterday my dishwasher decided not to start.  I put in a work order, and within two hours there was a very pleasant young man at my door, who made quick work of fixing the problem.

All of which is to say I doubt I will be looking for a house to buy.

Have I mentioned that I am thrilled to have gotten rid of at least three quarters of my possessions and that I love being in a smaller space?  

A friend asked me whether my apartment felt claustrophobic.  

Not at all. 

My 1100-square-foot townhouse is plenty big for me.  The living area feels cozy and the upstairs with its two bedrooms, one of which has room for my desk, feels just right. 

It is true I no longer have a garden, but, in truth, taking care of my many garden beds had become more burden than pleasure.  Here is an example.  A few months ago, I did my last forget-me-not pull.  If you have never taken part in this activity, allow me to explain.  After these lovelies put on their month-long show in the spring garden, the blooms fade and the plants begin to die back.  It is then time to pull them out to make way for other blooms.  The pulling, which scatters seeds for the next year’s display, is easy; forget-me-nots are shallow-rooted. It is also time-consuming and messy. Time-consuming because there seem to be more to pull every year; messy because the seeds stick to garden gloves and clothing.  

 

 

I guess they call them forget-me-nots for a reason. 

And although I love these beauties, as I pulled, I felt grateful that this was the last time I would have to take on this task.  (It was easier when Bill was alive – four hands are better than two.)

Indeed, I have been surprised by how sanguine I have felt about leaving the garden behind.  I have gardened happily for decades--even wrote a garden column for several years, but around the time Bill became sick, the garden began to feel overwhelming. (There was also the addition of four grandchildren in 23 months, a new and happy call on my time.)

So, yes, I am done with gardening for this lifetime.  I am content with some pots on my patio and some house plants inside. (If I want to get my hands in the dirt, I can always visit one of my daughters.)

Now that the dust has settled and the hard work is behind me, I can say unequivocally that down-sizing has been a good thing.  Of course, moving did not change the fact that I miss Bill, but I no longer expect to see him every time I turn around. And although he resisted moving, I believe he would applaud my new beginnings.  

As I start over in this new place, I’ve been thinking about the children's classic, Goodnight Moon. In the unlikely event you are not familiar with this charming book, here it is:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sR3Ow61AgWw.     

 

With apologies to Margaret Wise Brown, I have created my own version, changing goodnight to goodbye, which better suits my tale.

 

 

Goodbye to All That**

 

In the house that she left

 

There were boxes to heft

 

And so much stuff that she cried out enough!

 

There were baseball hats and baseball bats

 

And too many books

 

And collections in nooks

 

And kiddie pools and multiple tools 

 

And mountains of towels that made her feel foul

 

And photos to sort and blocks for a fort

 

And picture frames and too many games

 

And tables and chairs and socks not in pairs

 

And so many memories everywhere

 

And a surfeit of clothing that brought on loathing

 

And an excess of pans and a very old fan

 

And multiple candles and bags without handles

 

And dead electronics and potions and tonics

 

And more and more; who could keep score?

 

And a busy old lady, who was heard to say yikes!

 

While keeping her fingers in multiple dikes. 

 

 

Goodbye house

 

Goodbye boxes to heft

 

Goodbye stuff -- she’s had enough

 

Goodbye baseball hats and baseball bats

 

Goodbye too many books

 

And collections in nooks

 

Goodbye kiddie pools and multiple tools 

 

Goodbye mountain of towels

 

That made her feel foul

 

Goodbye photos to sort and blocks for a fort

 

Goodbye picture frames and too many games

 

Goodbye tables and chairs and socks not in pairs

 

And goodbye memories everywhere

 

Goodbye to the surfeit of clothing 

 

That brought about loathing

 

Goodbye to the excess of pans 

 

And the very old fan

 

Goodbye multiple candles 

 

And bags without handles

 

Goodbye dead electronics 

 

And potions and tonics

 

Goodbye more and more – no need to keep score

 

And goodbye to the old lady who was heard to say yikes!

 

(I’ve heard she’s now doing whatever she likes.)

 

 * I bow in gratitude before the friends and family who helped me, especially with putting together furniture that came in boxes.  I have three degrees, but no practical skills.  Well, that's not entirely correct - I can grocery shop and keep myself fed, take out the garbage, do laundry, handle my finances, tend to grandchildren, and organize my life.  But don't ask me to do anything mechanical, and please do not ask me to follow written directions. Without my friends and family, everything would still be in a heap - including me.

** Yes, I stole this title from Joan Didion.