On the Road Again by Hannah Rowan #RomanceGems

 My sister once told me she knew it was time to move when her oven got dirty or it was time to wash the curtains.

We lived in the same house for almost 40 years before renting the place where we live now, rented mainly because we sold the house but couldn’t figure out where we wanted to go next.

Selling a house you’ve lived in that long means leaving so many things behind. I wonder if the new owners will decide to dig deep into the garden and find the pet cemetery. I wonder if they’ll know the spots where the irises come up in the spring or know not to trim back the gigantic aster bush because it will bloom in the fall. I knew all the plants in the yard and all the strange spots in the house where you had to turn the doorknob just so and to pull the door a little toward me in order to get the key to work. I knew the stain where my mother in law spilled grape juice on my brand new light gray carpet the first time we had a family dinner after we bought it.

More importantly, I had my people and my places. The convenience store where I went for coffee, the dry cleaner where I felt I’d won a victory when the owner finally said hello after grunting at me for several years, the ladies in the library who asked if I was okay after seeing that I checked out several books on depression for writing research, and who admitted they’d been discussing the issue with surprise because I always seemed so cheerful. I knew that the cashier, George, in the grocery store was writing a book and that clerk Janice was studying to be a medical assistant.

Our daughter was horrified at the thought of us selling “her” house even though she said she had no intention of ever moving back to New Jersey. Our son wondered what took us so long.

But now, after a few years in our rented place, I have new people and new places and a landlord who surprised us by telling us he was selling the place and it’s time for us to go.

This move should be easier because we’ve already sold, given away, or tossed huge piles of things. And we have lots of things…um…already packed.  (Never unpacked!)

Moving is an adventure, I tell myself.  Moving is also one of the most stressful things a person can do.

At least we didn’t stay here long enough for me to have to clean the oven or wash the curtains.

  ~  Happy Mother's Day!  ~