The moving van comes tomorrow morning. But my spirit has already gone on ahead of me.
My last night here, I’m sitting, as I do most nights, on my love seat facing my 16-foot wall of windows, loving the vast expanse of sky from my third-story perch, surrounded by treetops and the busy-ness of my urban neighborhood. This has been my favorite place to live, hands-down. It suits me in every way. I expected to live here until I was too old to climb the stairs.
Instead, I woke up about three weeks ago and realized that the only place left to cut my budget was housing. Within the week, I had rented out my condo and found a sweet little 1928 duplex to rent. Best thing about the new place: It’s in this neighborhood I love, about five blocks from my treehouse condo.
For about 24 hours, I was bummed. But feeling sorry for myself got boring pretty quickly and I decided, instead, to focus on the good that will come of the move. I am excited about the possibility of paying off the debt that has accumulated while my income has adjusted down…and down again…and down some more…over the last three years. I am having fun imagining my furniture and my art in a completely different space; it’s almost like having all new stuff — except cheaper. I’ve met the neighbor who shares my duplex and he knows old friends of mine and I can tell he’s going to be a great neighbor. The new street is shady and quiet and my new landlady says I can plant things in the yard come spring.
So, although this is officially my last night in my treehouse, I’ve already packed up and moved the things that matter — my hopes for the good times ahead, my willingness to embrace change, an optimism that nobody can take away.
Next week, two sweet young girls move into this place, full of excitement over their good fortune in finding a very cool condo in a very cool neighborhood. I predict it will be their favorite place to live, hands-down. And they won’t know it, but when I hand over the keys to the treehouse, I’ll be blessing them with a silent prayer that their spirits will luxuriate, as mine has, in an awareness that the sky is the limit.