It is January 31 and in five months I will be leaving my life here in Baltimore and moving to Ecuador. I am not sure this change feels real to me yet. I feel panicky. How can I organize my house and ready it for sale, how can I say goodbye to all my patients and transition them to a new psychiatrist, how can I take care of the myriad of tasks necessary to make this happen. My panic escalates. I am overwhelmed.
I have not wanted to face selling the house. Not having a home to return to frightens me. I feel my heart rate increase as I write these words. I have been hoping for some sort of miracle so I do not have to face this. I buy lottery tickets when I remember to, of course I am aware that the chance of winning millions of dollars is infintisimally small. My husband is more practical. He works with the numbers on a spreadsheet and the answer is obvious...we must sell to make the year in Ecuador possible.
I remind myself that we have been talking about downsizing for the past two years. Since one of my daughters is in college and most likely will not come home to live, our house has become far too large for the three of us ( and two, perhaps only one dog). We congregate in the kitchen, occasionally the dining room, and most evenings and nights all five of us sleep in the master bedroom, staying close for warmth and companionship and togetherness. Most of this lovely 1905 home is empty and cold.....so it has made sense to find a smaller more intimate place anyway.
I have wanted to move closer to downtown Baltimore. I am a city person, and although officially I do live in the city, the area around my home feels like suburbia, or at least a city-like suburbia...and so selling the house to find a rowhouse closer to Hopkins and the city makes sense too.
I must appreciate every day in this house, for it will not be my house for long. I moved here from Salt Lake City a few weeks after I married Eric. He chose the house with his parents, and when I arrived, the house was torn up and characterless. We camped out in the sunroom for the first six months while it was renovated. I was mourning the loss of my life out west and did not adjust well to Baltimore. The house did not feel as if it was mine, and it took several years to feel connected to the house. I was also grieving the loss of my beloved house in Salt Lake, and my friends and my former life. Eric was away alot the first few years, burrowing himself in his lab. Over time, the house became my house, more a reflection of myself and my life and now it is mine and I will struggle letting it go. I am sad that it took so long to appreciate what I had.
We had friends over for dinner this evening. I love making dinner and entertaining, both big bashes and more intimate affairs. The house works well for all sorts of events. Houseguests are always welcome, as are parties and smaller dinner parties and sleepovers and family affairs. I plan to enjoy every day that I have left in this house, every day is the last time.