D'ya remember that song by Joni Mitchell, The Circle Game? "We're captive on the carousel of time...." We have closed the cottage again in October, pulled in the dock, shut off the water, boarded the windows. Accompanied by the predictable rhetoric, "Where'd the summer go?", etc. Christmas is just around the corner. "The seasons they go 'round and 'round..." My life is passing before my eyes, exponentially faster. We're on max speed now. My carousel of time is a whirling dervish.We are confronted daily by those yardsticks of our rapid journey from cradle to grave . (How many cliches have I used so far - and I'm only into the 2nd paragraph?) The growth and achievements of our children, grandchildren. The size of that tree in the garden that we planted when we moved in. The tantalizingly brief cottage season . The measure of a life.
This was never the plan. We wanted a small open-concept bungalow with a quaint garden. Haven't found the one that matches the dream and the desired economic exchange, so we've whiplashed to a radical change in lifestyle. We are now focussed on the exciting aspects of the choice, to assuage the grief of leaving our spacious homestead. And we have plenty of time to say goodbye. "We can't return, we can only look behind from where we came..."
In my younger years I lived in a high rise or two. Three, actually. Back then, I thought it was exciting. When I left a small town and graduated to the sophistication of TO the Good, I was very impressed with myself. But once back on terra firma, I never wanted to look back, swore I'd never go into the sky again. I'd get vertigo when visiting high rise friends. Now look at me, humming George Jefferson's Movin' on Up as I wander through my rooms, contemplating what goes with us, what goes bye-bye. It's going to be quite an adjustment, moving to less than half the square footage we're enjoying now. It will require quite a purging, but will be a healthy process I think. We're hoarding a lot of "stuff" simply because we can. Ample storage is getting the axe. The condo doesn't even have a linen closet nor a broom closet. BUT it does have a storage locker on the same floor as our unit - that's pretty exciting.
I wanted a larger open space for entertaining - am going to a smaller one. But why does an older couple cling to extra bedrooms for kids and grandkids who sleep over very occasionally, and party space for rare parties? Same reason, maybe, that you hoard that thing you're sure you'll use some day and never do - don't even remember you have it.
We'll be bumping into each other more often. My husband thinks that's a good idea. Maybe we'll get re-acquainted. I won't have to haul laundry up two flights. We'll lock the door and travel, and, when it's cottage time, he won't be out there mowing the lawn when it's time to hit the road.
The kids approve. The whole concept is pretty amusing to all of us. There's talk that a restaurant is going into the first floor. Seems like we're precluding that move to a seniors' residence - we're already there, dining room on first floor. And, adds my daughter, a doctor in the house, in the penthouse that is. Actually, our doctor's office will be walking distance, in a building two doors down the street. Maybe we won't need him frequently if we adopt the downtown lifestyle of more walking. "It won't be long before you drag your feet to slow the circles down..."
So, this is the arc of the circle now. Leaving the home where we raised our kids, lived the bulk of our marriage, the longest either of us stayed put. The only home our youngest ever knew, until he finished university. It will be a painful time and an exciting time. A tale of two lifestyles. We're giddy, optimistic, fearful, puzzled by our audacity. "There'll be new dreams, maybe better dreams and plenty, before the last revolving year is through.."
