Saturday, April 25, 2015

A View of My Future, Through My Rear-View Mirror

I haven't blogged since early January.

Since then, Mom passed away, peacefully, on February 1st. Once my lives settles down again, I have so much to write about how I experienced that transition, as I'm still processing it.

In the meantime, I'm knocking back my daily coffee and preparing for my next adventure. Boxes of every dimension are all around me and in every room, together with bags of packing material and rolls of bubble wrap that are as tall as me when stood on their side.

My son and daughter-in-law pop in and out to help. I have made countless trips to local thrift stores to donate tons of stuff that is absolutely of no emotional connection to me. Other things have found loving homes with my neighbors. My favorite mantra these days is, "You want it? It's yours!"

Of course, that leaves rooms of tender memory-things that will eventually find their way to me when I settle in my new condo--which is somewhere out there, especially on sites like After getting an insanely heart-stopping quote from a corporate moving and storage firm--even with the "discount," I've opted to store my non-essentials here briefly, find the permanent home for Tiggy and me, and then send for everything.

The house sale is getting wrapped up, and I have deputized a trusted relative/friend with handling the final details.

On Monday, April 27th, I will be packing Tiggy securely into her carrier, answering her plaintive "meew" inquiries with assurances, loading up my essentials (toiletries, outfits, some notebooks), and then hitting the interstate. My car has had a safety check, and my "out-law" Hal and I have spread out a map on the table and plotted the best route. With good fortune, and a stop or two in safe, pet-friendly motels (not anything "Bates"-like!), I'm planning on getting into Littleton, Colorado on Wednesday, April 29th.

There, a new job and a new future awaits.

For the past couple of months, I've done countless hours of research on my "new frontier," including a new church community, where the local Costco is, the seasonal weather, how to get in and around various points -- and, of course, what lies beyond in Denver. I've even reached out to a MeetUp group called "Rock and Roll Oldies," which is geared toward our generation with dances, parties, and even group attendance at geezer-concerts. Several friends here in Burbank have already connected me with their own Littleton connections, and I've already promised them to meet for coffee, wine, or whatever ASAP.

You see, I'm really, truly excited to make this move -- but I'm not clueless as to the enormity of it all. The last time I experienced this kind of migration, I was only eight years old, and seated in the back of the packed station wagon, as Mom nervously navigated unfamiliar roads and Grandmother barked directions at her while clutching the maps.

As my own d-date looms, those memories flash back to me, especially at night. And now, I'm in the driver's seat. If there's some kind of supportive system on the back end of my journey, it will soften my landing.

But don't worry about me. I'll plow through the next few days and weeks -- and have fresh material to share.

Talk to you soon. Lots of love, and farewell.