Burn the Damn Candles
This is not the post I intended to write, nor is it one I was wanting to write but here we are. Up before the sun, surrounded by bags filled to the brim for donations, suit cases covering our bedroom floor and life as we know it rearranged and scattered. At least for now. I celebrated a birthday, and it has truly been a month long of festivities and then this morning, upon waking, reality settled in nice and close. Curled up with its blanky, all comfortable and cozy, and here we sit. To be fair, we are in my velvet green reading chair, beside the window, watching as the sun extends all its efforts to rise above the imposing darkness. Metaphor much? Grey-ish rain clouds are scattered and moving ever so slowly, candles are lit, both in the kitchen and on our coffee table. Hell, all the candles are lit. In all the rooms. There is no time like the present to burn the damn candles. Am I right? I do believe I am.
Birthdays. They're my jam. We celebrate ad nauseum around here. Once our eldest's birth-day has passed I begin my countdown. Seriously. The entire family is subjected to my ways. And I am here for it. I think they are too? Husband Jared is for sure. He whisked me away to Athens, Greece for a city weekend and it was lovely. We were steps from the sea, there was seafood and ancient ruins, friendly people, an upgraded room with Prosecco waiting, walks along the shoreline, and a day spent at a natural spring with nibble fish. It was one of those quick trips where you return feeling as though you'd been away for weeks, in the very best way. We were refreshed and rested and ready to enter in to this next season. Or so I thought.
The move date is March 3rd. As in, that is the day we will depart our last flight as residents of Austria and return stateside. We'll land in Nashville, a familiar and not so familiar, city for us. There we will start again. Now, though, movers are scheduled to arrive in 1.5 hours. They will take today and all of tomorrow to sort and pack, dissemble and load our belongings. Everything, other than our clothes, will be boxed and sent, via sea cargo, to Tennessee.
We have experienced moves. I've lost count, but I think we're close to eleven. This is not new. I am well aware of the expectations, the checklists and closing up a house and life. It's just that when I walked out of my room and saw afresh the apartment in disarray it struck me. There have been those moments. Like on the UBahn yesterday morning, a route I am quite familiar with, one I've been taking almost every wednesday for the last year and a half. I was prepared with my coffee and about to open my book and then I didn't. I sat. Eyes peeled, neck turning side to side. Taking in the sights. All the historic buildings, commuters and corner flower shops. Bakeries with lines out the door and kinder on their way to school.
So you see, I anticipated sharing my birthday month and all it entailed and then my mind and heart were overcome with moving. It's all been one intertwined mess this month anyway, so I suppose this is exactly as it should be. This life can not be compartmentalized or categorized in tidy containers. Not for me. All the bitter and the sweet coexists together. While I've been treated to coffee dates and dinners, a farewell party for our family too, and even a surprise birthday lunch with tiny helpers to blow out my candles, the timer has been ticking away. The end date looming. And I know I won't fully process and grieve this place that has been home for two years until we're on the other side of see you laters and boxes. I've entered into the present, with my best effort. Offering my best attempts to remain here. Emotionally and physically. Intentional with the people and places in my space. And yet, life often looks differently than our should's and want's, especially in the bitter and sweet. So I say again, there is no time like the present to burn the damn candles.
Amidst this birthday month, and the end of month necessary "activities" (insert MOVE related tasks), oh, and how could I forget, our tenuous visa renewal, I was blindsided by illness. A serious infection consumed my body and mind. For almost three weeks I was homebound. Not necessarily the farewell month I had planned. Such is life. Rest was needed. Antibiotics too. And help from my guys. So, yeah, that put quite the damper on my expectations. Also on the intentionality and time I had distributed mentally to ending well here. It has been more like a slow crawl to the finish line. Turtle speed. Not rabbit. Again, metaphor much?
The reminders float in and through and all around. Usually when I least expect them. I was having coffee with a dear friend and her toddler aged daughter. As we sat at the table with our hot chocolate, pastries and coffee, she ever so tenderly reached for my hand, held it and then pressed it softly against her cheek. Just so this isn't misunderstood or, ahem, made into something it's not, I am speaking of my friend's daughter. She's the one that shared this sweetness with me. Not said grown up friend. That might be weird. Anyhow, these reminders find their way in and nudge me towards the present. Despite illness, setbacks, uncomfortable feelings, and all the unknown that is inevitable while one is in transition mode. Like when Thing 4 ran off to the skate park to meet a friend and kindly brought it to my attention that spending time with the people here was more important than ALL the packing and laundry that was waiting for him. Yes, priorities.
While we're opening our door to strangers and arranging pick ups for large appliances, hugging necks and saying see you laters, directing packers as to what stays put and what goes, meeting with friends on our dust bunny covered floor, and having said friends "shop" our remaining grocery items and such, I am reminded of what I mean when I say burn the damn candles. Being present in the moment and accepting the reality of what is. The whole leaning in and noticing what surrounds and holding the space that is available. And then, while you're immersed in all of that, burn the damn candles. Because why not? Circumstances are just that, circumstantial. They will eventually change. The tide will turn. Before you know it, alright, before I know it I will be sitting on an airplane headed to the states. And that will be that. The chapter will have closed. Our time in Vienna, will have ended and we will no longer be able to call ourselves residents. Sad days. But also, good days. Difficult days. Challenging ones. And happy ones. An entire range of emotions. So I'll choose regardless of birthdays or illness, dislocated shoulders, (ahem, Thing 4), and messiness, to burn the damn candles. Join me.
Birthdays. They're my jam. We celebrate ad nauseum around here. Once our eldest's birth-day has passed I begin my countdown. Seriously. The entire family is subjected to my ways. And I am here for it. I think they are too? Husband Jared is for sure. He whisked me away to Athens, Greece for a city weekend and it was lovely. We were steps from the sea, there was seafood and ancient ruins, friendly people, an upgraded room with Prosecco waiting, walks along the shoreline, and a day spent at a natural spring with nibble fish. It was one of those quick trips where you return feeling as though you'd been away for weeks, in the very best way. We were refreshed and rested and ready to enter in to this next season. Or so I thought.
The move date is March 3rd. As in, that is the day we will depart our last flight as residents of Austria and return stateside. We'll land in Nashville, a familiar and not so familiar, city for us. There we will start again. Now, though, movers are scheduled to arrive in 1.5 hours. They will take today and all of tomorrow to sort and pack, dissemble and load our belongings. Everything, other than our clothes, will be boxed and sent, via sea cargo, to Tennessee.
We have experienced moves. I've lost count, but I think we're close to eleven. This is not new. I am well aware of the expectations, the checklists and closing up a house and life. It's just that when I walked out of my room and saw afresh the apartment in disarray it struck me. There have been those moments. Like on the UBahn yesterday morning, a route I am quite familiar with, one I've been taking almost every wednesday for the last year and a half. I was prepared with my coffee and about to open my book and then I didn't. I sat. Eyes peeled, neck turning side to side. Taking in the sights. All the historic buildings, commuters and corner flower shops. Bakeries with lines out the door and kinder on their way to school.
So you see, I anticipated sharing my birthday month and all it entailed and then my mind and heart were overcome with moving. It's all been one intertwined mess this month anyway, so I suppose this is exactly as it should be. This life can not be compartmentalized or categorized in tidy containers. Not for me. All the bitter and the sweet coexists together. While I've been treated to coffee dates and dinners, a farewell party for our family too, and even a surprise birthday lunch with tiny helpers to blow out my candles, the timer has been ticking away. The end date looming. And I know I won't fully process and grieve this place that has been home for two years until we're on the other side of see you laters and boxes. I've entered into the present, with my best effort. Offering my best attempts to remain here. Emotionally and physically. Intentional with the people and places in my space. And yet, life often looks differently than our should's and want's, especially in the bitter and sweet. So I say again, there is no time like the present to burn the damn candles.
Amidst this birthday month, and the end of month necessary "activities" (insert MOVE related tasks), oh, and how could I forget, our tenuous visa renewal, I was blindsided by illness. A serious infection consumed my body and mind. For almost three weeks I was homebound. Not necessarily the farewell month I had planned. Such is life. Rest was needed. Antibiotics too. And help from my guys. So, yeah, that put quite the damper on my expectations. Also on the intentionality and time I had distributed mentally to ending well here. It has been more like a slow crawl to the finish line. Turtle speed. Not rabbit. Again, metaphor much?
The reminders float in and through and all around. Usually when I least expect them. I was having coffee with a dear friend and her toddler aged daughter. As we sat at the table with our hot chocolate, pastries and coffee, she ever so tenderly reached for my hand, held it and then pressed it softly against her cheek. Just so this isn't misunderstood or, ahem, made into something it's not, I am speaking of my friend's daughter. She's the one that shared this sweetness with me. Not said grown up friend. That might be weird. Anyhow, these reminders find their way in and nudge me towards the present. Despite illness, setbacks, uncomfortable feelings, and all the unknown that is inevitable while one is in transition mode. Like when Thing 4 ran off to the skate park to meet a friend and kindly brought it to my attention that spending time with the people here was more important than ALL the packing and laundry that was waiting for him. Yes, priorities.
While we're opening our door to strangers and arranging pick ups for large appliances, hugging necks and saying see you laters, directing packers as to what stays put and what goes, meeting with friends on our dust bunny covered floor, and having said friends "shop" our remaining grocery items and such, I am reminded of what I mean when I say burn the damn candles. Being present in the moment and accepting the reality of what is. The whole leaning in and noticing what surrounds and holding the space that is available. And then, while you're immersed in all of that, burn the damn candles. Because why not? Circumstances are just that, circumstantial. They will eventually change. The tide will turn. Before you know it, alright, before I know it I will be sitting on an airplane headed to the states. And that will be that. The chapter will have closed. Our time in Vienna, will have ended and we will no longer be able to call ourselves residents. Sad days. But also, good days. Difficult days. Challenging ones. And happy ones. An entire range of emotions. So I'll choose regardless of birthdays or illness, dislocated shoulders, (ahem, Thing 4), and messiness, to burn the damn candles. Join me.
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