Knowing: Thirteen

More antsy than I had been in years, I decided to look for an apartment.  To consider a permanent move to the seacoast.  As things often open up when we are ready, I found a delightful complex.

The dogs were boarded in a kennel for a week and I flew back to Asheville.  Friends offered to help me pack. Thoreau even Skyped the entire house room to room with me on the computer telling him what to recycle and what to keep.  Other friends brought pick ups and graciously took maintenance, yard and garage items I would not need in my new lifestyle. 

The day the moving van arrived, I was more than ready to go.  Leaving my wild life was a struggle.  Tears filled my eyes as I took a final look.

“Be well, my loving animals.  Thank you for trusting me enough to visit.  I will miss all of you,” I whispered.

How could I leave my beloved menagerie?  I worried about them all.  Even the raccoons that created havoc with continual bird feeder removal.  This was their forest long before humans usurped it. Now it would be returned to them. 

That final stroll to the side garden facing south reminded me of the red wolf only a year before.  Wildlife management people say they do not exist.  They say that for several reasons.  One is that they do not want to write a wildlife plan – some 300 pages longs I am told.  The other reason is their academic training tells them they were killed years before. 

My face softens, a slight smile forms on my lips.

“Sure.”

Back into the house one more time.  Rearranging the living room with the Ethan Allen recliners, a couple of front porch rockers to give a lived in look. 

The guest room is ready with the beds made and furniture.  Everyone says it is the best room in the house.  Spectacular mountain views.  Views of the area where most of the wildlife traverses.  Part of me is still there.  It always will be.

My flight back to Manchester, New Hampshire was quiet.  So much to digest.  So much to leave for a time when it is safer to remember.  We continue to adjust.  Life is easier on my aging dogs here in many ways.  The winters are hard and we will go south for the cold three months next year.  The underground parking is a joy.  Maintenance would be mostly a thing of the past, save the mountain house.

Recently, I re-listed with another realtor.  After six months on the market, she was not successful in selling it.  The following spring  I listed it with a mindful woman. She is a friend and truly cares about her clients. I wouldn’t have been ready for her a year ago.  I am now.  The home is also ready for new occupants. 

Adjusting to apartment life was indeed an adjustment.  I loved having neighbors, knowing that there were others in the building, albeit seventy and eighty year olds.  I did miss the privacy but we don’t get it both ways.  I need to resolve this.