Transition

Transition, in my life, is not a painless process. The wider the gap that must be crossed, the more painful the journey to the other side.

The winter past was harsh, long, and imposed a chilling isolation in both body and spirit. The adjustment to winter conditions was slow, a shutting down of expectation of human contact, an acceptance of a “no can do” form of existence, where no plans could be anticipated, no relief from the rigours of surviving the weather, and our remote location, would arrive until April. It was a four month span of increasing numbness, withdrawal, retraction.

Spring has not yet arrived at the country house, but it has broken through the grip of winter at the little house in the city. Thus, jumping the gap from winter to spring, for me, has occurred at the little house in the city. The thawing, the breaking of “no can do”, to allow the “can do” to emerge in life, is painful. Like the sting of thawing frozen fingers on a winter’s day, my inner being is stinging with the change, yet seeking that change with enthusiasm, for all of that.

This morning, finally, I have passed through the worst of the effects of this anticipated and welcome transition. Plans can be made, expectation of human contact is not only feasible, it is suddenly a reality. I can choose to venture forth, even if it just to purchase a bag of milk, and interact with flesh and blood humans. Agency is such an important aspect of a balanced life.

When I return to the country house later this week, winter will be waiting for me. But I will only be visiting winter, I will not unpack my bags in that season.

Today was used to good purpose, in reorganizing the storage in the kitchen cupboards. The kitchen is small at the little house in the city, so every bit of space needs to be used wisely. We needed a place to store often-used items, and that space has now been created.

I continued to collect unused items, and found that the Salvation Army Thrift store appreciated receiving them. Two trips were made, leaving more welcome storage space available, in this tiny house.

The sky clouded over in the afternoon, the wind began to buffet the tree branches, the house creaked with the gusts, and rain seemed imminent. As I sat writing this entry I watched two large herons fly slowly across the skyline, heading for the water’s edge. And I thought of Attila, and how wonderful it will be to see his smiling face!

Worldly Distractions

Weather

Attila’s World: County House

9°C
Date: 4:00 PM EDT Monday 7 April 2014
Condition: Mostly Cloudy
Pressure: 101.0 kPa
Visibility: 16 km
Temperature: 9.0°C
Dewpoint: -5.8°C
Humidity: 35%
Wind: SE 21 gust 34 km/h

My World: Little House in the City

5°C
Date: 4:00 PM EDT Monday 7 April 2014
Condition: Light Rain
Pressure: 101.5 kPa
Tendency: falling
Visibility: 24 km
Temperature: 4.8°C
Dewpoint: -1.9°C
Humidity: 62%
Wind: SSE 17 km/h

Quote

“The nice part about being a pessimist is that you are constantly being either proven right or pleasantly surprised.”
George F. Will
1941-

In such case, pessimism seems like a perfect way to avoid disappointment!

6 Comments

  1. Bex

    Yes, always expect the worst but hope for the best. Or something like that… I expected the worst today (jury duty) and got the best (sent home). Roll on Spring!

  2. Maggie:

    This post is divine… simply riveting with your exquisite use of words… so present and elusive at the same time that I can’t describe the jumble of pleasure. The emotions are tangible – I can feel your desperate yearnings and sighs of relief and gratitude and reluctant yet inevitable resignation to powers beyond your control. The most endearing passage is the anticipation of seeing your man again.

    You’ve made magic with words. Really and truly. I think it’s poetry disguised as prose. Yes! That’s it!

    Can I share this post with friends?

Comments are closed.