Sunday, March 20, 2016

Time to Move on

Dearest Readers,

I would apologize to both of you for not posting before now, but what's the point.  Can't go back now. In that spirit, I've moved from my palatial imitation apartment, my Hobbit hole, my sanctuary and into the abyss.

I'm quite surprised by my emotional reaction to the move out.  Wasn't expecting it. Although when I moved in there were so many emotions going on, I'm sure I was numb to most of those feelings back then, but I would imagine they were there.

As I was packing the last of my stuff into my car today, the little girl across the street came running over.  She has done this every day since she and her family moved in during the summer.  She waits outside, rain or shine, until my car pulls in.  The runs across the street to my shouts of "Stop, you'll get your ass run the hell over".  Then she proceeds to tell me all manner of 4-year-old things. Kitties, puppies, poop...she's everywhere you want to be.

Last weekend when I started my move, she ran over and asked what I was doing. I told her I was moving, but I could see it didn't register.  She asked me the same question all week and weekend. What does one say?

When I packed the last of my belongings into the car today, she and her parents were coming home. She ran to me and asked the same question she's asked for over a week: "Where are you going? What are you doing?"

"Well kiddo, I'm going to a new house. A place where the dog has a yard, the cat has a room and I can finally move on."

"You are going?!"

"Yes, I am."

At this point she broke down screaming and calling me a bad man and an ugly person. Her parents grabbed her and apologized to me; that was heartbreaking.

I don't blame her. I probably am.

I know she was just hurt and didn't know how to express what she was feeling, and to be honest, I was really packing fast because I didn't want to have to see her.  I knew it would be bad.  That she wouldn't understand what was happening.

I've lived that. Hell, all of us have in one way or another. That sense of loss.  That sense of safety from the predictability of our day-to-day lives suddenly ripped away.  That's hard as a 4-year-old girl...or a 44-year-old man.

Ultimately, I could have chosen to be the sad-assed old man in the apartment with his cat and dog and decided to never risk anything again.  I wouldn't have been happy, but I wouldn't have been sad either.

In short, I've been in a rut.

I guess at the end of it all,..I'm thankful for that little place.  It gave me safety, sanctuary.  It made people I met friends, friends I had family and family I have closer.

But driving away today, with that little girl crying, made me realize something.  I was part of a neighborhood, a community, a FAMILY of it's own making by happenstance. And it allowed me to put the past in the past.

It gave me bonding with Roger, Rodney and Monte.  It gave me Hal. It gave me Stevie and Jeff. Dana and Dawn. It gave me solace after so many nights on planes and in hotels...it gave me my life after the shock of losing what I thought my life would be turned out to be so untrue.

 And I'd be lying, dearest reader, if I said there wasn't significant sobbing on the way to my new home this afternoon.  Good luck, kiddo.  Don"t wait for me on the stoop.

All my love and let's be safe out there,
BKoM

1 comment:

Lance Johnson said...

The fact that your departure elicited such an emotional response from her is exhibit A as to why you are most definitely NOT a "bad man".