Day one

(Amy suggest writing for 31 days in a row about the move. I think I probably have enough to say to fill 31 days of posts. We’ll see.  Maybe in the process, I’ll get better perspective about it all.)

1. The excitement wears thin pretty quickly.

          I counted the days until it was the day of the move. I was so excited to be leaving Chetek. Part of it, of course, was that Don had gone first, but part of it was that when I make up my mind to do something, I want to just get busy doing it. And this wasn’t possible with the move, because there were so many things we had to do first.

         But the day finally came and I had the rental car picked up and packed to the gills and everything else stored away and I was ready to leave town. To tell the truth, it was pretty anti-climactic. There wasn’t anyone there to bid me safe journey. I just hopped in the car (without my Sherlock) and took off south.

         It was indeed exciting to finally drive up to the new place and see all that Don had accomplished. It was a new challenge to figure out how we were going to live together in this unfinished space we were now calling home. The weather was more pleasant. The sky seemed bluer and the sun brighter. I was finally here!

         But that was first day excitement. Some of that excitement was worn off after one night of sleeping in a very uncomfortable twin bed with a very old mattress and stretched out springs. More of that excitement wore off when I began to realize just how much was left to do before we would have anything resembling a house. And the rest of it wore off as I settled into a life where there was nobody except Don who recognized me and talked to me. It became extraordinarily lonely in a very short time.

          I’ll admit I didn’t expect that. I had no idea how it would feel to be in a place where I had no friends or even acquaintances, no job, no role to play in society as a whole. I was totally adrift. Had I known how long it would take to even begin to rebuild my life, I may have turned around and gone back up north. But I didn’t know. I still don’t know, but I’ve come to grips with the fact that it is a very slow process. One doesn’t just wake up with a full roster of piano students or with schools calling for accompanists. Yes, it is possible to find opportunities to teach and to accompany, but starting again as an unknown has proven to be a huge challenge.

          I am now taking solace in the quote about a good life not being the number of breaths we take, but the moments that take our breath away (or something like that.) I wasn’t having any of those breath-taking moments in Chetek. And I have them frequently here. I don’t, of course, live in one huge moment of exhilaration, but the moments are there – moments that confirm to me that this is where I belong. I believe the rest will fall into place in time. And being absolutely delighted with where I am makes the process much more bearable, if not speedier.

         I love eastern Tennessee and south west Virginia more than I even expected. I feel so at home in the rolling hills and mountains where flowering shrubs bloom and bloom and hummingbirds visit my porch and the catalpa tree shades my backyard seating. And I love the people – kind, easy-going people who are not ashamed to openly serve God.  I feel like I’ve come home to where I belong. Now if I could just get some people to realize I’m here!