Cleaning House

How many times have you made a move in your life? I think I am approaching fifty or more.

With each and every move I became a little more proficient. Culling through the collection of our lives little essentials. Wrapping each precious plate with care and protecting the less than fine art we had accumulated along the way.

I was always amazed at how many boxes were dedicated to the children's things. Their rooms were always the first to be set up and the last to be dismantled. I was especially careful to keep any and all of their stuff. Afraid that we might arrive to the new place, to find out the one thing they couldn't live without had gone missing.

There isn't much time to reminisce when you are in the process, but you do it anyway. Photos taken at neighborhood barbecues, pictures at the beach, art and school projects the children had so proudly presented us. Wrapping each item with great care and tucking the memories away.

Each time you move you take so much with you. The friends you will never forget, the places you will remember visiting, but especially the stories that will be told and re-told over the years. You also leave a bit of yourself behind.

We have had the good fortune to live in many beautiful places and homes over the years. The one we are in now is by far the most unique. Two little casitas with a huge deck between. A living space as big as all outdoors. It has been the sight of our sons wedding party, our grandchildren's birthday parties and lots and lots of barbecues.

I had a Garage Sale the other day. It reminded me of those moves I have made. It occurred to me that cleaning house is not that much different. Culling through life's little essentials. Passing on the bits and pieces that are no longer needed. Enjoying the memories and making new ones.

The best part is that tomorrow morning , I will not have a moving truck pulling up to my front door.
I think this one is a keeper.

The Game

Once upon a time a long time ago there was a electronic table game called Pac Man. It had funny little characters that you controlled by hand paddles. The object was to maneuver them through a maze like structure while consuming every thing in their way. Points were scored based on the length of time you were able to stay in the game. 

My husband has been a waterman all of his life. He grew up in a small beach town on the west coast known as "the most southwesterly city" in the United States. We could see the Tijuana Bull ring from the beach and back in those days you could walk there on a low tide day. He surfed from the time he could carry a board to the water and along with his dad rode some of the biggest waves over a mile off shore. On the days there were no waves, he would surf up and down the beach while being towed behind a jeep. He learned to scuba dive and would bring home the fresh catch of the day as well as filling our refrigerator with abalone and lobster. 

He sailed in small boat races on the east coast. Surfed the frigid waters off Rhode Island and learned to ski on the blue ice of Vermont. He bought his first Hobie Cat and with me in tow raced in the first regattas. Our first boat was christened the Turtle, due to the fact it was upside down so much of the time. Later, it was wind surfing and snow boarding.

Stand up paddling is for calm water. He is a stand up surfer and regularly surfs in overhead surf on some of the prettiest beaches I have ever seen. As an early bird there are many mornings he has the waves to himself before the rest of the world begins to rise.

His newest undertaking is kite surfing. Your upper body is being pulled in one direction by a kite, while your lower body is strapped to a flat board skimming the waters surface. I liken it to one foot on a skate and the other on a banana peel. And yes, there have been a few mishaps and at least one lost board.

One of the things I love about his adventures is that they have taken us to places we probably would never have seen. In the early days it was to some luscious tropical island with crystal blue water and warm breezes. Most recently we visited the not so exotic Lone Star state. Surprisingly, the SPI lagoon is warm and wide with long stretches of flat water and some of the country's friendliest people. The newest spot is in Baja, four hours south of the border. Just drive to the end of a dirt road and take a right through the sand dunes. As you pop out onto the sandy beach you can't believe your eyes. You can drive your car on a deserted beach that goes on for mile, after mile, after mile. The warm air is tempered by the heavy wind and might be the most perfect spot on earth. 

With an eye to the sky, wind gauge in hand, he is in hot pursuit of the perfect wind. This Pac Man is racking up the points and is still in the game.

Home

I have a dear friend who recently moved away from her home. The home she lived in for most of her adult life. A home where she and her husband created a family. A home where she raised her children. A home where she watched her grandchildren laugh and play. Where weddings were held and birthdays were celebrated. A home where joy and happiness reigned supreme.

One day she called to tell me about a dream.  She was in a boat without a paddle and was being carried down a fast moving  river. Surrounded on all sides by a stone walls. She was frightened but curious. Her thoughts as she was waking was how would she survive the rapids that were fast approaching. 

You see the rapids had already approached her in real life. Her husband had been battling a life changing challenge. His health, their livelihood, their existence as they had known it lay in the balance.  One day while driving home from treatment they found themselves stuck in traffic. Looking up they saw an odd sight. A boat sitting in the lane next to them. As the two burst into laughter they couldn't help  but see the irony. As hard as it was to contemplate it was time to climb aboard the boat and see where it would take them.

Tears and more tears were cried. Leaving their home was hard enough but moving away from the family and leaving the grandchildren was unbearable. 

Navigating their way through the move was tortuous. Finding a new home seemed impossible. And yet they found a town that is warm and welcoming. They live in a new home that is sweet and comfortable. A home that the children and grandchildren have already visited and begun to fall in love with as well. 

Many people think of a house as a home. I am sure that all of you who read this story know that a home is many things. A home is the sights and sounds of life happening. Listen carefully and you can almost hear the laughter of family and friends. 

Are those chocolate chip cookies I smell?