The rain is providing the background music for my life today. It’s a low humming constant that reminds you of a sound machine or like you’re some sort of meditation. The rain makes me lazy (read: relaxed, calm, centered). It also makes me reflective…
So, as I sit here in what was once my FranMa’s office, using what was once her desk… As I reminisced earlier of the makeover process of my daughter’s bedroom (check the Insta stories) … I am reminded of why I love this house so much. It’s home.
I moved a lot growing up. The 5 of us. My parents lost a couple of houses; we transitioned in and out of house, apartment, house all while going back & forth to my grandmother’s house. Ultimately, me & my mom ended up in a manufactured home (what y’all might call a trailer). But I was moved around a lot then too. Whoever’s parent could take me in at the time, while my mom went back to school. Shuffling from friend to friend, trying not to be in anyone’s way for too long so my friends wouldn’t see me as a bother. But FranMa’s house was a constant. The constant. It was the place I could always go and have a home. You may have to hear some mess from her, but that was home too.
As a person that grew up with a lot of change, much uncertainty, and knowing how to pivot on the fly, consistency means a lot to me. Stability is everything. I try not to judge that person for the feeling of stagnancy that occurred when I received a pin from my job celebrating 10 years at the company. I know she needed this. I know her college experience ended up just as unsettled as her childhood (if not more). I remember her excitement for college, for leaving home, for the plan, the steadiness of it all…
and I remember when it was lost.
I try not to judge her.
It doesn’t always work.
I find myself asking What’s Next?
I know it’s time. I know I need to decide. I know I could be more.
And, while it isn’t the only hinderance here, the fear can be crippling.
The uncertainty. The instability. The change.
You had a plan before. And you let yourself be human one time. And it all fell apart.
I know too well what it feels like to have everything fall apart. So, to that self, I understand. And I try not to judge.
But it’s time.
What’s next?
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