I've hit a weird anniversary that I'm not sure what to do with: thirty years in the same place. It seems significant because it's double any other place I've ever lived. My house closed on the 1st of November 1995, but I officially moved in on Friday the 3rd.
I was in my parents' place from age 2 to 17, and it was so boring to have such a stable home life. That sent me moving place to place for the next dozen years or so. At one point, my dad offered me the house when he moved in with his new wife, but I was still restless, so I declined. I sometimes can't believe I turned that down! I didn't want to live in my childhood home even though it was amazing with a beautiful forest out back; it mattered more at the time to carve my own path.
In the first five years of my place, I did all the big things I needed to do, and now I've been hitting the end point of all of all that work. Of course the maintenance turnover coincided with retiring. The furnace died in the middle of winter. After fixing one little thing after another to eke out another year, my repair dude told me it had cancer of everything: "That furnace owes you nothing!" The water heater followed soon after. Then this summer I fell through my 25-year-old cedar deck boards outside. I had to fall through a second time before replacing it all.
I moved in here at 30 with a baby in my arms and another in my belly. The closing date didn't line up with my last place, so I needed a couch to crash on for two months with a little one and two cats. My ex offered the other end of his king sized bed, so now we have two kids!
But the cedars that back on to the condos out back are out of control. When I moved in, a company cut them back twice a year and I was given strict instructions to never touch them; they're not my property. At some point that service ended without notice, and cutting back years of growth is going to leave a leafless mess. I can't imagine calling any authority figure about that, but I might try to tackle it a little at a time.
I've always preferred to roll with life instead of planning the details, but nearing the end feels like it might need more forethought. Maybe. Goal-setting is the way towards progress and getting things done, and all that important stuff, but there's something to be said for being like a tree bending in the wind, able to move as needed when the time seems right. I'm pulled towards living near water, but I also love the home I set up for my family. My two youngest were born in this house. This is an incredibly privileged position to be in, and I'm aware of a third option: living in a small apartment and helping people in greater need.
Aging adds the illusion of urgency, but tomorrow is still just another day. Today, I think I'll celebrate by taking a stab at cleaning out the basement. A lot has been collected down there over the years. I'm at that point of thinking that I'd hate to leave a mess for others to have to clean up. Kind of morbid, but we're heading into the years of tying loose ends neatly with a bow. I'll get to the cedars another day.
Indeed, there will be time.
