Lessons in Gratitude Day 416

Someone should tell the moon that it’s waning and that in such a diminished state it is supposed to be less spectacular than it was two nights ago when it was full, the rare blue moon that won’t show up again until 2015. How is it that the rising moon, now on the wane, is so spectacular that I stood outside for a few minutes tonight and enjoyed it? It’ll be even more fabulous in about an hour when it has lifted above the treetops and I can see it from my window. I am grateful for the things I see from these windows in my bedroom. I don’t have sweeping vistas, views of the bay, or anything of the sort, but I see and hear enchanting things from these windows. Where I live next must have windows that provide me with the degree of entertainment and appreciation I benefit from now.

Eighteen months ago when I moved from what had been my home for five years to move into this condo I would have said that I was grateful to find a suitable place for me and my son to call home while I sorted out my life and began the long, slow process of making sense of all that had happened at the start of 2011. Still, moving from a comfortable, three bedroom home that I had shared with a significant other into a two bedroom condo in a complex ten miles away was a significant adjustment at a time when I was up to my eyeballs in adjustments. In some ways, I never fully settled into this space, which is too bad because it has been a relatively soft place to land when that first wild ride of the mechanical bull of life sent me sailing. While I have many times expressed gratitude for having a roof over my head, a safe, warm space for me to live while undergoing the healing process that is still unfolding, I haven’t often expressed gratitude for this place.

I am a big believer in signs so when we came to look at this place I recognized two things before we even went inside: the address was the day and year of my son’s birth and that the name of the street means “treasure” in Spanish. While that could simply have been an interesting coincidence, I like to think that it was a sign that we had found the right place. For the most part, it has proven to be so. Now as I prepare myself to move to another place in another town in another state I am hopeful that I can find another “treasure” where my dog and I can settle in and make a home.

Home has been a life theme for me; the concept of “home” has popped up in earlier blog posts. I have at some level been searching for home for much of my life, and while I know that “home is where the heart is” or home is where you make it, I still believe that there is a particular place where I can exhale like I haven’t in any other place. There might be many such places around the world, but I haven’t quite found home yet. I am not actively searching for it, either. That feels a bit like looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack. Perhaps it is a function of my age, (at 55 I think I can safely say I am now past middle age…) but I am less inclined to go looking for the things I want and more likely to let them find me. I’m sure that sounds odd, but I’m equally sure that’s the right approach for me where I am right now. As clear as I am about this, I nonetheless get a bit melancholy when I think of how much finding home means to me.

While there are a number of good songs that express the longing for home, the song, “I’m Going to Go Back There Someday” from the Muppet Movie (yes, the 1979 movie starring Kermit the Frog and Company) best captures how I feel about this mystical place. I am grateful to have lived in a number of different places, each representing some aspect of my life at the time. Only one of those places has really felt like home, but now that I know what home feels like, I’ll know it again when I find it. And as Gonzo sings, “I’ve never been there, but I know the way…I’m going to go back there someday.”

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I’m Going to Go Back There Someday