I’ve been feeling my way along the parameters of this new life for a while, taking in the unfamiliar twists and turns similar to how you move about in the dark; slowly but surely. And then sometimes not so surely. It’s just over a month since we moved to a new house and I’m finally at the point where I wake up without being jarred by the sight of my bedroom’s new surroundings. It’s hard to adjust to change after 14 odd years in the same house but I’m doing it, all the same. Isn’t it funny what you get used to. And just as easily un-used to.
It’s a lovely neighbourhood. Leafy, green, lots of people who take pride in their home and surrounds. We’re close to pretty much everything we need, schools, shops, public transport, motorways, and more parks and walkways than you can poke a stick at! Spencer and I have enjoyed that, I must say. We’re settling in. All boxes are unpacked. The noises of the house are becoming increasingly familiar – songbirds singing at sun up, the timber floor gently creaking just after 6am as my eldest boy quietly pads up the hallway on his way to work, the gentle click as he closes the front door.
The sound of a neighbour’s truck half an hour later forewarns of the alarm clock’s impending screech, the soft but insistent push of my cat’s paw against my bare shoulder moments later as she realises I’m almost awake and can you get up and feed me NOW please? I lie there for a moment and savour the calm of another new day before throwing an arm out to silence the electronic slave driver before she barks.
Breathe in…. breathe out. You’re okay… everything is okay.
And it is, for the most part. There are still a few little wrinkles to be ironed out, but ironed out they most certainly are going to be.
Like it says: “I may not be there yet, but I’m closer than I was yesterday.”