Little Orange Dahlia Days

How many places can one person live in a life? I’m sure some have lived in more, but I’m always surprised by how many places that I’ve lived in and how many moves I’ve made. There are at least two more in store for me in the foreseeable future. Three if I factor in the place that everyone has to end up in; in the words of Prince, the afterlife.

29 moves. I feel like that’s a lot. I’ve mentioned it to a couple of friends and, apparently, it’s basically par for the course. They’re not far from me in their own count. This time though I’m having to conduct it from far away. All the way across the country. What to get rid of and what to store and keep. What to buy all over again- for not the first time. One could see that as an opportunity but, when it’s the 29th time with at least two more looming ahead, it sure doesn’t feel like one. And, no, sitting on the floor in empty rooms is not an option. But you can redecorate (whoopee?) – and spend money that perhaps otherwise needs to be saved. I don’t know when I’ll be well enough to be able to go back to work. I’m 52, I thought that I’d have at least another decade to save before I’d be at home all day. I’ve basically worked in some way since I was nine. What am I supposed to do with myself now? How much reading can one do each day? No major networks and no real TV reception. No sidewalks on the rural highway.

I hadn’t even really given retirement (ugh) a thought except to start to save for it. That’s not exactly true – I had thought about it enough to begin to think about what I would do as a second career, one of choice and with part time hours. I hadn’t thought about what I would be doing if I wasn’t physically able, if I was out in the middle of the woods without public transportation. If I had trouble remembering things.

It makes you snort laugh, instead of crying, to think about what you devoted your hours to when you were perfectly healthy in preparation for your future… Hindsight is 20/20 as they say.