Linda just mentioned on her blog about leaving her lifetime home in Orange County and moving to Taos. What an adventure! Starting over in a completely new place, one that you love! But also about leaving her home where she has been forever. What a push/pull that must seem. To leave where you grew up and lived your entire life to a brand new location, even one that you love, must be wrenching/exciting.
It's a life lesson. Leaving what is familiar for what is unknown. (Yes, she does know Taos, but living and traveling there are 2 different things.) Isn't this a life story? Look at our relatives who left their homes in wherever and came to this country. Look at the Africans who came here involuntarily. Look at the Native Americans who were displaced from their homes. It makes me wonder what "home" actually means. Is it a physical location, a feeling, a spot in your heart, a bolt hole?
I had the fortune of growing up and going to school in an industrial city where everyone was from somewhere else. Parents who spoke English as a first language were exotic, although we regarded those who had southern accents as foreign also. We were multicultural when multicultural meant exactly that. We learned respect for each other. I can remember classroom discussions in elementary school that were about how we all celebrated the holidays. OK, we Jewish kids were ignored, and there were a good number of us in our classes, but that was a different time, and that's a topic for another post.
Anyhow, we learned about Christmas in Germany, Albania, Portugal, the South (!), Hungary, Ireland, Scotland, etc etc. Not one kid I knew had an "American" last name, except for the 2 southerners. Kids brought in cookies for the holidays, and they were all different.
To get back to my original post, Every one of those parents pulled up roots and came to Connecticut. I heard about the glories of Vienna from my father and his family, and also about what the Anschluss meant. I didn't have to watch movies about the Nazis; I lived those stories. My mom came here in the late '20s. She left Europe for entirely different reasons. My grandmother was widowed while pregnant with her last child, left her kids with relatives, and came here to make a new life for herself and her children. These were big moves.
And here is my friend, Linda, who is moving out of her comfort zone for someplace new, where she probably has no friends or support system except for her husband. That's a big move too. But think of what her rewards will be. She'll have the adventure of a lifetime here, her mind will expand and her delight for life will be enhanced. I'm envious! I'd love to move somewhere, where I don't know, but somewhere, even for only a couple of months. Just to learn new ways of looking at life, see different buildings, taste different foods. What an adventure!
I suppose that anytime you "move" into a different phase of your life, you are heading into the unknown. So many people are fearful of it. They want their lives to proceed as they have always done. They are terrified to go into a big city, to travel where English is not spoken, even to try different ethnic foods. But moving gives the gray matter a challenge, teaches you so much that a book or TV program cannot.
Retirement is like that also; you move out of the routine of work for pay, and into something brand new. Scary. But look at it this way: you now have the opportunity of a lifetime to do what you want to do, to take classes, to take up a hobby, to travel, to be free of responsibility at least until old age sneaks in. And even then, to age and grab life by its horns and go with the flow, that is living. I know, illness, death, will hurt beyond measure, but even then, there are opportunities to move and grow.
OK, now that I've put you to sleep, here are some pretty yarns to wake you up:
Morning Glory and Ice Green:
Peach Tart and Aruba:
Go off and move somewhere today. Try something new; be brave.
Andrea - Yes but you were adventuresome; you tried it out. I know people who will not go into New York City and they live in a town that's 27 miles west of the city and you can commute in and be there in 45 minutes. Talk about provincial. It's not that they don't like the city; it's that they automatically reject it because it isn't what they are used to. They pride themselves on never having been in the city. arrgh.
Henya - If you can do that, you can do almost anything.
Linda - Your blog post really moved me.
itsJUSTme-wendy - Give me flats any time.