babybloomr

I’m kind of a naturally optimistic, glass-half-full kind of person.

That’s not a pat on the back, that’s just the nature I was born with, or maybe inherited– in my family we call this characteristic the “Don Timm ‘Just Happy To Be Here’ Personality.” Charlotte has it, as do several other of my brothers and sisters and nieces and nephews. It’s not like we are constitutionally incapable of feeling morose, or angry, or depressed or fearful. It’s just that we usually don’t stay there too terribly long because our default setting is pretty much “This too shall pass” and “Tomorrow will be better” and “Isn’t it great to be aliiiive?!”

That’s not a bad way to live, most of the time. But what I’ve discovered about myself (can’t speak for the rest of the family) is that when I do sink down into sadness, if I don’t acknowledge it and then take steps to talk or cry or write it out, it has a tendency to hover around my head like a swarm of gnats, or perhaps more accurately, settle around my shoulders like a cloud bank. And I’ve also learned that what seems to trigger that state of mind more than anything else is loss.

I don’t do loss well.

Which kind of sucks, since life is chock full of it! Big or little, permanent or fleeting, natural or unnatural– the one thing I can be guaranteed in this world is that every passing year will bring more loss.

The other bad news about loss is that when I experience one, it seems to trigger the sense-memory of every loss I’ve ever had, which can turn into one giant tsunami of sadness if I don’t get a grip. This time of year is particularly tricky because it is leading up to the anniversary of  Daddy’s death; and even though his passing was peaceful and surrounded by love, I still miss him every day and fervently wish he was still here.

But death isn’t the only way loss manifests itself. Change is a kind of loss, too. It signifies the ending of something– and even if there is something good (or better) that comes as a result, it is still at least temporarily, The End. My natural tendency is to kind of blow past that part and just try to hurry up and embrace the new beginnings, but I’m learning to take some time to mourn those endings, acknowledge the losses, and honor the (normal, predictable and ultimately temporary) sadness that comes with the territory. If I consciously make the effort to do that, it seems to keep those hovering gnats/settling clouds (to mix metaphors– which I do, ALL THE TIME) from taking up residence in my heart.

So with that in mind, here’s the current laundry list of loss/change I’m dealing with, as well as the simultaneous positive side of what these things will eventually bring into my life. If you’re in a “share with the class” kind of mood today, why don’t you leave your own particular list in the comments? I’m not really in misery, but I DO love company!

OK, here goes:

* We’re selling our house and moving an hour away from everything familiar…

BUT– We’ll be starting a new phase of our lives in a wonderful house in one of my favorite little towns. Also, hello, I’ve been wanting to do this for a year!

*The girls are growing up, moving on… Our relationships are changing… I can’t protect them from their own losses and pain… It will never be the way it used to be…

BUT– I get to have a front row seat in the lives of two fascinating, soon-to-be women that I love with all of my heart. They are resilient. We are entering a new phase of our mother/daughters relationship.

*I’m getting older. So is Russ. We have to face the reality of limitations– physically, financially, emotionally… The future feels uncertain…

BUT– We have each other. We’re both still pretty cute. The future has ALWAYS been uncertain, we were just too young and stupid to know that! And God has never failed us yet.

*Sometimes it feels like Mom is already gone– because of her hearing issues, she can’t use the phone and we don’t talk every other day like we used to… I miss her presence, her opinions, and her unflagging interest in whatever was currently going on in my life…

BUT– She’s still here! We can still go visit her, and make her laugh and let her know how much we love her. She is safe and living in a lovely place that she has (for the most part) accepted and appreciates. She still gets (and makes) the jokes!

* Life is too risky. Friendships, pets, people and possibilities can all die right in front of you…

BUT– I might as well embrace the risk, because history has proven over and over again that NEW friendships, pets, people and possibilities are being born every day.

See? Obnoxiously half-full!

OK, your turn. What’s currently on your list?

I’m what you might call a real estate enthusiast.

Even before we made the decision about a year ago to make a move and started the hunt for our next house, I’ve always enjoyed going online and just browsing around, looking at listings. Before the internet, I used to pore over the Open House ads in the back of the newspaper, squinting at the tiny photos, trying to see if I recognized any of my local favorites. Even now, every time I pass a house that has a big ol’ moving van sitting in front of it and burly men carrying furniture up the front steps, it never fails to put a smile on my face. I daydream about that house just wrapping its welcoming arms around the new family as they settle in to spend their first night there, all cozy amid the packing boxes… I have a tendency to anthropomorphize when it comes to homes.

When Russ and I first got married, we moved into a one bedroom apartment in Bellevue, a suburb of Nashville. I proudly referred to it as a ‘townhouse’ since it did indeed have two stories– as well as a cheap-looking stone fireplace that never did draw correctly, a postage stamp-sized patio and a tiny, rickety balcony that could just barely fit two plastic Walmart lawn chairs on if you sat really close together. It was the late 70’s, so my decorating aesthetic was all about earth tones, rattan furniture and macrame plant hangers– oh yeah, baby! I loved that little place, but I was already looking forward to the day sometime in the misty future when we could afford to buy a real house. I spent YEARS cruising the streets of Nashville, learning all of the neighborhoods, jotting down phone numbers from For Sale signs, calling to find out prices and then hanging up with a big sigh of disappointment. Too high.

Eventually we saved up enough money for a decent down payment, and the searching began in earnest. I always gravitated towards old houses, particularly Victorians, though I inevitably liked the gingerbread-trimmed exteriors better than the chopped-up, multi-parlored interiors.  I fell head over heels in love with a few wraparound-porched/ pocket-doored/more-than-slightly-shabby beauties in some frankly dicey areas of town, but we always ended up talking ourselves out of it. In our price range, the rambling old houses were usually not in the best of shape or in the best of neighborhoods. That gave us pause, since Russ spent over 200 days a year on the road with the Imperials, and when I wasn’t traveling with him, I was home alone. Also, it just wasn’t realistic to try to take on a fixer-upper– as a handyman, Russ is a REALLY GOOD SINGER.

Finally one day, we got a call from our dear friends Cynthia Clawson and Ragan Courtney. They said, “We have good news and bad news. The bad news is that we are moving to Louisville. The good news is that you’re going to buy our house!” I didn’t believe that could remotely be possible– we had spent many happy evenings in their gracious 1930’s home, and I was convinced that it was way too nice for us to be able to afford it. But Cynthia and Ragan, God bless ‘em, were determined to make this happen for us, so they dropped the price waaay down and put all of their eggs in our basket– they gambled on the chance that we would be able to qualify for a loan, and they never even put the house on the market. Thankfully, it all worked out and we moved into the home that we loved and lived in for the next 21 years.

About 6 years ago, we moved to another suburb, Brentwood. The girls were going to a private school here, and since their friends and activities were beginning to center around this area, it just seemed to make sense. Our sweet old house was getting to the point that it was going to need some major work before too long (rewiring, new plumbing, etc.), so we were thrilled when we sold it to a young couple with lots of big plans (and disposable income), and we found a lovely ‘younger’ (only 16 years old!) home in a great development. We’ve enjoyed this house and it has has served us well, but these days there’s just not anything holding us here– Madi is in college in another town, and Charlotte’s prep school tutorial only meets two full days a week. We are ready for the next phase of our life to begin!

After a ridiculous amount of looking and a couple of disappointing false starts, we have now found the perfect (for us) house: a 108 year old late Victorian/early Arts and Crafts gem that has been completely restored– the roof, HVAC, plumbing wiring, kitchen and bathrooms are all a couple of years old, but the floors, woodwork, fireplaces and ‘vibe’ are all 100% HISTORIC HOUSE GOODNESS! And it’s in one of my favorite little places in the world: Bell Buckle, TN, a funky, artistic, eclectic little village surrounded by rolling hills and horse farms, but only 20 minutes away from a good grocery store, great shopping and restaurants (HELLO, I have my priorities, people!)  I have been making at least twice yearly pilgrimages to Bell Buckle for over 30 years– in fact, I first started making day trips there way back when we were living in that little one bedroom apartment.

So here we are, poised on the brink of a new (old) home, a new town and a new adventure. Hopefully, I will have some good news to report on that score soon…  But in the meantime, I want to hear from you guys!

What is your dream home?

Do you long for a log cabin in the mountains?