Monday, March 28, 2016

Times They Are A-Changin'

{alternate post title: we sold our house!}

Time is a funny thing. When you're a kid the world seems spread out before you like a big old forever--summers can be an entire lifetime; weekends a vast respite from the rest of the world. Slowly (or suddenly) this passage of time changes,

and then everything shifts.

We come to a point in our lives when our relative age verges on equal with the time we perceive to have left.

Things move faster, days slip by and before you can blink Monday has blurred into Sunday and you start the whole cycle again.

When we bought our first home in 2009, we thought we would flip it casually and that there would be no heartache (only progress) involved.

We were wrong.

The more our first home played on our frustrations, the more we grew to appreciate those four walls. The more we appreciated the place, the more it felt like home. Little by little, though we never intended it, our roots took purchase in that rocky soil. It wasn't something we realized right away, it was more a gentle unfolding of Life's intricate origami--each crease revealing a little more of how our lives had changed and had become enmeshed with the lives of those around us.

We had created shelter; a home with open doors and a warm embrace for any who crossed our threshold (which is hilariously and wonderfully the exact opposite of what we set out to do).

We did not walk in with our eyes open and our intentions clear; we uprooted our younger selves and trekked into the cold north with one thing on our minds: we had to pay our dues. If we wanted to chase our dreams and live the life we wanted, with the people we wanted, that meant we would have to compromise. Compromise meant living somewhere we weren't particularly keen on living; compromise meant leaving our old lives (and many of our old friends) behind, it meant starting from zero and making it work.

But interestingly enough, compromise also meant opening ourselves to new experiences, new people, new adventures we didn't realize were ours for the taking. Time and perspective are funny things; given enough time, a place we expected to hate (and at times, did) became a place we loved fiercely--a place we couldn't ever dream of leaving.

Until we did.

If you had asked me in 2009/2010 if I would ever leave Red Lake, my answer would have been a vehement "not soon enough!" If you had asked me that very same question in 2014-2015, it would have been a hearty "not over my dead body!"

Change is the only guarantee we have in life. While it still comes as a shock or surprise at times I'm learning that all you can do is go along and make the best of it, because chances are, it won't last (something will always change).

As of tomorrow, we will have been 'houseless' (not homeless) for a month and I'm still getting used to this  new pattern of thinking: that we won't be "going home" to that place ever again, but that we still carry with us the lessons of giving shelter that our first home taught us. Because we carry the act of giving shelter with us, we'll never be 'homeless' ; so rather than feel bittersweet about all this, there is a sense of anticipation, of turning the page to see what comes next.

Out of consideration for the new owners of our old house, 90% of the content here will be mothballed over the next little bit as we prepare for the gruelling marathon of making offers of purchase in a real estate market that is so toasty it may as well be on fire.

Onwards and upwards.