The Plate

I only lost one thing when we moved into this house. It was small in size, but not in importance. It was a plate. My friend MaryEllen gave it to me when I was probably nineteen or twenty. She got it in Greece. Since the day she gave it to me, I've had it on my dresser and it is where I put earrings or other jewelry when I take them off and don't feel like putting them back where they belong. 

After a few days or weeks, it gets rather full, and eventually I decide it's time to empty the plate and put everything away. Before we moved I packed it. I didn't take the time to put everything away, I just packed it. I had no real recollection of what was on it. I put it all in a bag, wrapped the bag in packing paper, and added it to a box. 

As I was unpacking I kept thinking it would turn up. I unpacked every box, and still didn't find it. There were a couple other things I couldn't find, so I convinced myself the plate, and those other things were in a missing box that would likely turn up. One by one I found the other things. All that was left missing was the plate.

I started dreaming about the plate. Every night I'd dream I found another box, opened it, and there it was. And then I'd wake up. No plate. It wasn't so much losing it, although it was. But it was more that I'm so ridiculously organized, how could I have possibly lost something I remember so clearly having packed. And where could it possibly be? 

Yesterday morning as I was getting dressed, I reached up on a shelf in our closet and pulled down a basket of socks. I don't usually wear socks as the weather gets warmer, but yesterday was chilly. As I pulled it down, there on the top of the basket was my plate. It was still wrapped in packing paper, but I immediately knew by its size and shape what it was.

The weird part is, I unpacked those baskets of socks. I put them up on those shelves. There simply isn't anyway I could've missed the plate. No possible way.

How did it get there? Where had it been? It isn't the first time in my life I've felt as though something has appeared, or disappeared, or reappeared inexplicably. Missing the plate bothered me, but it's reappearance doesn't. I won't ponder the mystery or try to figure it out. I'm happy to accept that the plate is back and leave it at that. 

And once again I find myself sending gratitude out into the universe. Whoever, whatever, however the plate ended up there . . . I'm appreciative.

Prince and a Bed

I'm sitting here waiting for our new bed to arrive not wanting to get started on another project only to be interrupted. I made lunch, cleaned the kitchen, made dinner, cleaned the kitchen again, and cleaned out my email in-box. Every so often I log on to Facebook, more out of boredom than anything else. Today the timeline is filled with posts about Prince, mine included.

I can't say that I've cried in the past upon hearing of a celebrity's passing, but today I did, and it surprised me. As I read through posts, his words and music ran through my head. I found myself astounded by how many of the songs I knew the words to. 

I don't listen to Prince much anymore. Every once in awhile one of his songs will pop up on the five-thousand song absolute favorites playlist, and bring a smile to my face. A friend commented that he is one person she's never seen live, and would've paid anything to do so. I answered that I wasn't sure if I would or not. Only in hindsight would I say now that I might.

My new dining room, where I'm sitting, looks south and west over Pikes Peak. The view is spectacular, especially on a day like today, when the sun is shining and the sky a blue backdrop behind the green of the pine trees. The peak is covered in snow from our last storm, and our neighbors yard, like ours, is covered too. There have been three flyovers since I've been sitting here. I can hear them, but haven't seen them. 

I have things to do, but after so many days of running at break-neck pace, I'm content to sit and wait. I might as well take the time to enjoy the home we've all spent the last several days making. It is beautiful. So much more beautiful than I even imagined. It's a great house, in a great neighborhood, and every day we discover something more we love about it. 

Yesterday our new refrigerator arrived, today a new bed, and in a few days we'll probably get a new cooktop and maybe a grill. Doug is slowly hanging paintings where they feel right, and so far his choices have been spot on. We didn't hang paintings in the house we leased for the past seven months, we knew it was temporary. It's nice to see his artwork, some again, some for the first time outside of his last gallery show. 

I'd say all is right in my world, but it isn't. Prince died today, and the world lost an artist so unique, so talented, so inspiring, so true to himself, that there has to be a time of mourning. Mine is now as my eyes fill again with tears. Rest in peace sweet Prince. 

Two Days

How did we get from over a month to two days? We close on the new house Thursday. This Thursday. It seems as though a minute ago we had weeks of waiting to get through. It helped that the closing was moved up eight days. Now here it is. Upon us.

This isn't the first house we've bought, but we hope it will be one of the last. We love it, and it is set up in such a way that when it is just Doug and me, it'll still work. I'm sure there will come a point that we downsize. Doug says ultimately we'll end up in a trailer in Huntington Beach. Uh, okay. Maybe that is exactly what will happen. Waking up near the ocean, little maintenance or upkeep . . . and the freedom to do whatever we want. That sounds pretty good. In the meantime, we have two boys to continue raising to be successful, independent adults, and making sure Charlotte is happy, healthy and enjoying the rest of her days. We'll do it all in the house that will be ours on Thursday.

As anyone who knows me might imagine, we are very well organized for this move. I wake up every day and let my mind wander to what I can get done for the move. That list grows shorter and shorter. The calm before the storm I suppose. Doug has a plan for what will go over to the house on Thursday and Friday, and what we can unpack and set up over the weekend. The movers will then finish it up on Tuesday. 

In the middle of it, Doug's uncle, Charlotte's brother and his wife are visiting. Thus we have to keep this house functional and comfortable until the movers do their job. We've managed to keep most of the house, with the exception of the front living room and formal dining room, functional and box-free. 

One bay of the garage is almost full, which means if we get another snow storm in the next week, Frank will have to clean off his car. None are predicted that I know of, and at this time of the year we're all hoping we won't see snow again until October, at least. Anyone who has lived in Colorado, spring or fall, knows that I am being very optimistic.

So here we are, on the cusp of the next phase of our lives. Our lives aren't really changing, just where we live them is. But it feels like a new phase. I've written so often in the last eight months about feeling unsettled. With each passing day, that feeling diminishes. I can look to the near and far future feeling optimistic and ambitious. There are grants to write on the horizon, and I am determined to settle back into a regular schedule of writing and promoting my books. I miss it so much.

Life is good. Great really. And I appreciate every single second of it.