Transitions are interesting. Depending on one’s attitude, a transition can be a beautiful gift or an unwanted pain in the neck. I’m not proud, but I’ve known both.
Last summer, Mister and I had an unwanted move forced upon us. It was rough. It was probably made tougher due to the dark cloud hanging over the entire scene. I can see that now, with the benefit of hindsight. At the time, however, I was wearing blinders, dark glasses and a ski mask.
Now, Mister and I are on the verge of a chosen move. It’s still rough in spots, but it’s made smoother by the glow of sun and excitement. I don’t need hindsight for that, as I feel it in my cells. And that’s to the core, yo.
Until the move actually takes place, we’re living with a wall of boxes, in a state of disarray. It’s wacky, but it’s okay. It really is.
And I’ll tell you something else – I don’t have a clue about how this will all go down, or what it will be like. But that’s okay, too.
One day at a time…