November 2021

A month ago we moved on. We sold our beautiful two-story, five-bedroom, three-bath, seven-closet, three-car-garage home and moved to an equally lovely one-story, three-and-a-half-bedroom, two-bath, four-closet, two-car-garage house less than three miles away. We gave up stairs, rooms, and closets; we gained a pool and a community center.

This move required downsizing – shedding furniture and housewares, clothes and books, and much more. We shed the idea that we were still as healthy and agile as when we bought the bigger house 17 years ago. We have less wall space and fewer shelves, so we shed a lot of picture frames – we realized we could shed the frames while keeping the pictures in an album, saving space on the walls. This concept applies to other aspects of our lives as well. We don’t need fancy frames – what is important is the essence, the experience, the memories. A complete set of china is less important than sharing a simple meal on plain, practical plates.

I was moved by more than the moving van. I was moved by the kindness of friends and neighbors, offering help . I was moved as I researched places to donate furniture and household goods that we no longer needed (honestly, things we really never needed in the first place). There are many amazing organizations working to help those in need. We donated to Disabled American Vets; Vietnam Vets of America; the Community Resource Center in Encinitas, our local community services organization; and we held a yard sale with the proceeds going to the International Rescue Committee to help with refugees and immigrants. We were able to donate a sofa to a Syrian family settling in our area.

Seeing first-hand how many folks are working on the frontlines to help so many others moved me to donate more. And when we got to our new house and we unpacked and put things away, I realized we could keep shedding. I was moved by the “buy nothing” community where one person’s excess is another person’s dream gift, and I was grateful for the social media platform that allowed the connections to occur.

By the time Thanksgiving arrived, and we were able to host a small gathering of family and friends around our table in our new dining room, I was moved to tears as I started the traditional reflection on gratitude. I was missing the two daughters who were not able to join us, and I also was moved to tears of gratitude when I thought about how much we have, starting with our health, family, friends, more than enough to eat, and a lovely home in which to share our bounty.

Transitions are hard. Change makes us uncomfortable. And in the process of moving, of changing, of transitioning, we open new vistas, we learn new lessons, and we enrich our lives. Moving on can mean moving up in contentment, in security, and in love.