jumble
How are other people making it through? There’s so much to be done I can’t choose what to do next and sometimes I just do nothing at all. What good is anxiety? Mostly it just causes a lot of needless stress. I suppose there are a few pithy benefits—caring a lot about everything; getting things done; wanting the most out of life. Since we moved my mind has been in overdrive, perhaps because we’re back to real life now after six months of house hunting. I feel like I’m simultaneously doing too much and not enough. I love weekends here but I’m still getting to used to solitary days. I keep wondering what else I should be doing and make myself mad. Why do things feel a little shadowy still?

sorting
Surely there is some perspective. Three weeks ago I turned 25. This time last year I was mired; things certainly aren’t solved (will they ever be?) but I’m proud of the changes we’ve made. Life may feel like futile spinning on a hamster wheel but it’s nice to look back and recognize a shifting towards the better. Take for example last week, when I baked mini loaves of sourdoughs for our neighbors. Over two years we lived in our previous house and yet I could count on one hand the neighbors we knew. We took a loaf to the family behind us on Friday and ended up staying three hours. And then over the weekend we had our first overnight guests to the house and hosted a housewarming party, the memory of which is enough to bring me to my knees. I dreamed of these days.

breaking news
This morning we had our first frost. I always prefer warm weather but the cold does have a way of piercing through the noise. Deep down I know where I want to find my worth but I’m constantly getting sidetracked. A gentle suggestion from my therapist: what if you focused less on who you want to be and cared more about discovering who you are?

It’s amazing, the lengths we’ll go to elude our own shadows. I’m no expert, but I’d estimate there are a million people on the run at any given time, me included. The trouble begins when the clouds of delusion dissipate—wherever I go, there I am and all that. 

Imagine if people were as vigilant as dogs. My dog Indigo is still a bit wary of her new home and she’ll only roam the yard if she can clap eyes on me. The other morning it was the coldest it’s been all season—39 degrees—and her breath came out in little puffs. Perhaps the cold invigorated her because she ventured further than normal, scouring the perimeter for weaknesses and errant rabbits. But every few minutes she trotted back to the window where I sat, turning her piercing gaze on me, waiting until I acknowledged her with a wave. She knows her duties and does them without regret or wishful thinking.

Accepting the facts of life rather than trying to outrun them—what a thought!

It’s a Sunday night in mid-August and once again, we’re checking our phones every thirty seconds. “If someone is trying to spend less time on their phones,” I tell Jacob, “they shouldn’t try to buy a house.” The phone rings. “I’m so sorry,” our realtor tells us yet again, “you didn’t get the house.” Crushed, dejected, disappointed, we go back to dinner. This is our eighth offer in four months; we wonder if we’ll ever have a home again.

 An hour later, the phone rings again. Jean’s voice has a different edge this time. “Guess what?” she says. “You know how sometimes the sellers change their mind at the last minute? Well, it happened again. The house is yours if you still want it.” Jacob and I lock eyes in disbelief; I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I’ve been dreaming of hearing you say those words for months,” I tell Jean. After we hang up the phone, we sit in shocked silence. My dinner lies entirely forgotten. Is this really it?

Blame it on hindsight bias, but something was different about this house. When I first found the listing, I looked at the photos on repeat for 48 hours, something I’d never done in the hundreds (thousands?) of houses we’d looked at over the past eight months. When we walked into the entry I gasped involuntarily, my hands clutched under my chin. It needed some work, but it was the most amazing house I’d ever seen. “We have to get you this house,” Jean said after she saw me hyperventilating over the blush pink tiled bathroom. 

Running through the house was a thread of familiarity, but how, since I’d never been here before in my life? It wasn’t until our offer got accepted that I remembered—I had seen this house before. A year ago, when we first started thinking about moving, I’d had a vision of our next home: an understated mid-century house in a quiet neighborhood, shrouded in leafy vegetation. I’d given up hope of ever finding it, and yet here it stood.

When we decided to make an offer on the house, Jean informed us that the odds weren’t in our favor. There were two other offers in hand: one that was cash; one that was higher than ours and waived inspection. All we had to offer were our emotions. I wrote a heartfelt letter to the sellers, whose parents had built the house in 1957. It was their dream family home; four children and a legacy were raised within its walls. The house was so beloved it was mentioned in the owner’s obituary earlier this year. I stressed that its integrity would not be lost with us. We crossed our fingers and knocked on wood; shot up a prayer and tried not to jinx our chances. This wasn't the first time we’d put our faith into an emotional appeal. I only hoped it would work this time. 

When we heard the good news, I asked Jean what swayed the sellers’ minds. “It was your letter,” she replied. “They felt that the house should belong to you.” 

Moving has been a much harder process than we ever anticipated, but this is the house that makes it all worth it. On our first night we had champagne and chipotle; take a picture, my sister said, this is a historic moment. We went to sleep on a camping mattress in an echoing room cocooned by crickets and whispering leaves. It’s the closest I’ve felt to being home in months.

What if nice things happen to you instead? What if you have enough time for everything you want to do? What if you get a text from someone just as you’re thinking of them? What if summer isn’t over yet? 

What if you make it home just before the storm is unleashed? What if you end up being perfectly healthy? What if you wake up to weather just right for wearing your favorite outfit? What if the plant you thought was dying shoots forth a new stem? 

What if the winter is more mild than anticipated? What if things worked out exactly as they were intended? What if your life is closer to being perfect than you thought?