I was a little unnerved when the property management company planted a “for rent” sign in my front yard. Even though I knew it was coming, to actually see it boldly sticking out of my weedy front yard plucked a reality chord, hard. Everything seems to be in flux or maybe it is just my perception of everything. Like when you buy a new car and all of a sudden you notice how many other cars on the road are the same model as yours, cars you had not noticed prior to the purchase.
We bought our house 13 years ago. It was a fixer, a blank slate, a house that cried out “help me”. So, for 13 years it has been a work in progress. We have lovingly and painstakingly resurfaced every wall, ceiling and floor inside and out, gutted two bathrooms, installed windows, built bookcases, replaced the roof, tiled floors and updated lighting fixtures the whole time chanting our mantra ”damn Ray!” Ray is the man who built the house. Ray was not a builder. With every project we undertook, we had to deal with Ray’s special “handiwork”. So now, after 13 years and despite Ray’s “handiwork” the house has become the home we love, the whole thing is finally finished. And so is Ray. We heard that he died last month. And now there is a “for rent” sign in the front yard. But, change seems to extend further than that.
Our elderly neighbor across the street has lived in her house for forty years. She is a sweet lady who gave us gifts when the Dudes were born and was always asking about them. She also owns beautiful wooded acreage surrounding our property and because of her love for her home has adamantly refused to sell any of it even at the prospect of significant financial gain. The preservation of this land has made our home a sanctuary; a peaceful place to live, a place for the Big Dude to climb his first tree and a quiet street for the Dudes to learn to ride bikes. She passed away this week. The property is now in the hands of relatives, its future uncertain.
It’s Spring, normally a time of beauty and rebirth, of fresh air and renewed spirit but, the circle of life doesn’t notice or choose seasons. We have chosen to make changes at a time when everything around us seems to be changing too. We leave, closing this phase of our lives, adding another piece to our circle to embark on new adventures not knowing what we will find when we return. As we leave, we chose to be thankful and reflect on our time here as wonderful and tomorrow I am going to go trim the weeds from around the “for rent” sign.
“All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another.” Anatole France