I can’t say my lifelong dream has always been to live near the coast, but I can tell you I don’t recall a time it wasn’t my dream. I had put that little bug in my husband’s ear for years—seemingly he had ear plugs in until one magical night or divine intervention; I really don’t care what you call it, he did not. As many great plans are made after a Martini or 2, one fateful night this past February my dream was set in motion. The conversation went something like this, don’t quote me verbatim—please refer to aforementioned Martinis.
Husband: Do you really want to live by the coast?
Me (with a bewildered look mind you): Why is this an option?
Husband (again): Do you really want to live by the coast?
Me (again with same bewildered look): Why is this an option?
Husband (now losing a little patience with me): Stop answering a question with a question and answer my question—Do you really want to live by the coast?
Me (now I think in tears, meekly reply): Yes.
The next morning upon awakening I pinched myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. Not a smart move for someone who bruises easily, but hey. I was not, the home hunting had now begun. We had given ourselves a year to a year and a half timeline and went to task narrowing down the particulars: town; price range; bedrooms; bathrooms; square footage & more. The home I was downsizing from had over 3000 square feet of living space and glorious storage for days. The home I ultimately downsized to had less than half of that square footage and not enough storage for minutes never mind days. My husband keeps reminding me of the definition of downsizing, I think I have the earplugs in now. 😛
Life after 4 years of a deep depression since losing my Mom had yet again had that glimmer of light. For many reading this and especially for those that think they know me—deep depression might seem out of character or a bit aggrandized; well then you just might not know me at all. Trying to be strong for everyone else around you I have learned thwarts healing for the one who needs healed the most.
But gratefully healing had started to progress and a little bit of the old me had started to emerge from the depths. My Mom loved the ocean and I told her in her dying days, where I go Mom, you go also. And as often happens, fate stepped in once again. Remember that timeline I mentioned earlier…while away on vacation in April we were having our floors redone in preparation to sell. When we got home they were not done and the contractor had to be fired and a new one hired. We decided to take a little trip to the coast while they were being finished, to look at a few houses. We had a list and the home we ended up purchasing was the last home on the list. The crazy thing is, I looked around the house and had no inkling this is the one. It wasn’t until I was standing in the kitchen that I was encircled with what I can only describe as a cloud of peace as if to say—we may not be the home for you, but you are the Family for me. The rest we shall say is history.
When it is said that something meant for you can not be shaken, taken or mistaken; do yourself a favor and believe it. Two months later we closed on our home & one month after that moved in. Only a year ahead of schedule. Every week we explore a different beach along our coastline and let the waves of healing continue.
Do I miss my prior home of 27 years, you bet I do. Do I miss all that glorious storage, you bet I do. But did I have to downsize it all to heal—you bet I did.
Kimberly
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