This is one of the posts recovered after a botched website move three years ago. It was originally written and published on December 30, 2011.
It’s another big day in redundancy: New Year’s Eve eve.
I am literally tingling with anticipation, and it’s not because I have spectacular plans for tomorrow night.
I always enjoy the turning of the old year to the new, due entirely to the perceived freshness, possibility, and potential of that shiny-bright new year.
I feel as though this soon-to-be turning holds more weight – 🙂 – than previous years, and I haven’t quite pinpointed why that is, even though I have some inklings.
Part of what I’ll be doing this weekend, aside from beginning my second annual New Year Purge (time to let go of more stuff!), is writing down my intentions for 2012.
I stopped making resolutions some time ago, and am subscribing to making and writing intentions because I believe they hold more weight in the grand, spiritual scheme of things.
I’ll share what I can as soon as they’re written.
How about you? Do you make resolutions?
In this moment, I am, very simply, glad to be here; to be home.
I haven’t slept in my own bed since Monday night, because of a much-needed, quickly planned and initiated visit with my father, which had me Yo-Yo-ing across multiple states in well under forty-eight hours, and also because of a planned overnight with Compass, my women’s support group.
When all was said and done, it involved very little over one complete day, and ended up being enough – for now, at least.
In the one full day I spent with my father, I was able to revisit two childhood homes:
This one, which I lived in from approximately ages 3 through 5, is on the National Registry of Historic Places due to its association with the surrender of Cornwallis…
…and also due to its participation in the Underground Railroad. It’s haunted, which adds to its charm, I think. I’d love for Ghost Hunters to do an investigation!
I lived in this house from age 6 through 11, and was so glad to see how well it’s being maintained by its owners. It used to be white with dark green shutters, and once upon a time, the porch had railings on it.
This house holds a lot more bad memories than good for me, it’s the house that my parents split up in, and from which we – my mother, brothers, and I – departed to move “back” to New Hampshire so long ago.
As I posted on Facebook the night I snapped these pictures:
“What once was home, is no more. Fascinating to revisit emotionally charged places, and find myself emotionally removed from them. The past is, after all, the past. I’m very happy to be present.”
Last night was spent at my friend Annie’s house for our Compass overnight. There was wine, snacks, sandwiches, movies, and a good deal of much-needed “processing” of my mini get-away, and Annie’s was the ideal location for all that.
The raised section in the middle is what I call “Annie’s Tree House,” because it is the only second story portion of the house, and it contains solely the master bedroom and bath, which are <i>lovely</i>.
The four of us slept in the “tree house,” as the bedroom is very large, and woke up, after a short night’s sleep (we didn’t get to bed until 1:11am), to beautifully seasonal snow flurries.
That’s what I have for today; time is running short, and I need to get ready to head out, as I’m spending the evening with friends. After that, I’ll be home to sleep in my own bed, and wake up in my own house tomorrow morning.