My View from where I Write
I've learned to allow myself to feel loss on a deep level. To allow the tears to flow, to feel the flutter and uncomfortable space in my heart, to feel the pain of it. The last few days, I have been feeling the soft edges of losing this place, our temporary home in the forest. With this loss, a feeling of excitement also surfaces. What is next? Will we make it in San Diego. Can we find affordable housing, good jobs? Or will we find ourselves traveling from motel to motel treading water financially until the next door opens.
My partner and I rarely feel stress or get depressed. We know we can fall back on our work ethic. We work hard. We know how to save and budget. We know how to live simply. Still COVID and fires can throw the best plans for a loop.
I am learning to let go, fall back on my work ethic, my writing, the few good friends and supportive family I have to keep moving forward. This is an adventure. Are we really meant to live this life in comfort, riding along, always stable until death or is there a bigger picture.
I have a feeling, a strong one, there is a much bigger picture and I am never going to see the whole thing until later, much later if ever.
This morning, sitting here, watching the light mist fall and deepen, the silhouette of the pine tree fading in the drizzle of light rain. I looked down on my phone and found a text. An invitation. The owners of our home in the trees, asking if we would like to stay until after New Years. They are concerned we may risk ourselves to COVID, the exposure expanding during the holidays with the rush of shoppers and out of town travelers, ourselves included descending upon Southern California.
The invitation was welcomed. We hadn't asked or even thought of pushing our stay here. Both of us are so careful, my partner and I, of overstaying a welcome or asking any favors. The invitation for us to stay another month was accepted.
We are learning to wait a moment, to let the universe-God/dess, the creator, opportunities, choices arise from uncertainty. To trust that a door will open, that plans can change, there is always hope and an answer just around the corner if we are patient enough to trust.