For a variety of reasons, each either too tedious or too personal to list, my partner and I listed our house here in New Jersey sometime around last May. To condense an extremely long story, we finalize the sale to the new owners on the 30th, exactly one week from today.
For those of you with absolutely much too much time on your hands, it may indeed be possible to research much earlier postings in this blog to discover that we purchased this home almost 3 years ago to the date. I remember moving in less than a week before Halloween and being concerned that I hadn't had time to pick up candy or carve a jack-o-lantern because of the chaos, a thought that, in hindsight, I now view as completely absurd.
Initially, I was very pleased with the decision. It was, and still is, a lovely old home a top a small hill looking over the quaint main street confines of a charming bedroom community of Philadelphia. However, as the months flew from the calendar like faded leaves from a branch, the events that I had envisioned occurring did not. I became disillusioned and ready for change.
Now, the change that I requested from the universe was delivered to be in abundance. Since moving back to the beach on a full time basis last May, my life has indeed taken on a new level of involvement that I find stimulating, challenging, rewarding—and most importantly—that allows me to enlarge my creative horizon on a daily basis.
So, it is not with sadness that I notice the fact that this will be the last 6:46 AM that I spend in the Butterscotch Castle. It seems that the older I become, the less wistful I become as well. The past is the past and I've learned that attempting to dwell in it, as well as regret it, is futile to say the least. Upward and onward with myself.
However, there is an oddness about knowing that one particular moment is the last moment. It's a tad bit haunting - the finality of it all, and as such, it seems that my morning is composed of a very long stream of final moments.
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