It’s All Good

20170620_142748I’m home.

Finally, after months of searching and agonizing and driving for miles, I am finally home.

The search for our perfect house was arduous. The negotiating was tedious. The packing and unpacking was endless and the unpacking is still going on.  I’m thinking we’ll be completely unpacked in another 5 years. But “it’s all good”, as our steadfast, loving Washington realtor reminded us on a regular basis.

It’s all good.

The cats are currently trying to figure out what kind of long-legged felines the deer roaming our backyard resemble. The Princess is trying to understand the complexities and logic of roundabouts while cruising around town.

And I’m still looking for my long underwear that’s somewhere buried in one of these mystery boxes.

It’s all good, though.

We’re currently experiencing balmy weather in this part of the country, but woo-hoo when it’s cold out here, it’s bone chilling cold.

Yes-siree, Bob, I’m sure glad the Princess and I like the cooler temps, because we’d sure as heck be SOL, if we didn’t.

The sun comes up early in the morning in the summer months and doesn’t set until well into the evening hours, and we just got internet services for the first time in two weeks. The world has gone on without Lucie and the Princess’s daily participation and knowledge of it.

And as far as I’m concerned, it’s all good. Mind you, the Princess doesn’t currently share that opinion, but the Princess has been through our local roundabout one too many times, lately.

Our journey here was challenging, but rewarding.

When we crossed the southern edge of the Washington border, rain, cold and clouds greeted us as we quietly drove-on into what seemed like an endless gray mass of cold and yuck. Each of us quiet with our thoughts and emotions, as the two cats slept-on snuggled safely in their special traveling carrier that we meticulously stuffed with soft, woolen blankets and items that smelled vaguely familiar and reminded them of home.

As the rain pounded our windshield, the car’s wipers appeared to quietly repeat my silent prayer with each passing stroke: “Please, Lord, keep us safe and let this be the right decision for my family and me.”

“Please Lord,” I solemnly mouthed while looking out at the cold, rainy scene of what was soon to be my home state.

When we finally pulled into the driveway of our house that Friday evening, tired and emotionally wrought, we gathered up our belongings and set about blowing up what would be our bed for the first two nights.

Todd, our Allied van driver, wouldn’t arrive until two days later. I remembered watching him carefully pilot his 18-wheeled behemoth, containing our furniture and comfy beds, crawling slowly down our roadway through a ghost-grey fog and hair-curling mist, and wondering, “Did the Princess and I really do this? Did we just move miles away from family and loved ones to a state where virtually no one knows us and leave behind most everything and everyone that’s dear to us?”

And then my older brother, Anthony and his wife, Lucy, showed up driving their RV from a visit with my niece in Seattle to come help us with our move in.

This gray-haired lug who I fought with as a child over everything from mowing the lawn to shoveling the driveway was suddenly Lancelot with his adoring Guinevere standing next to him, smiling and graciously offering us a chair that she had taken out of the RV.

“Here, Lucie,” she said while setting up one of their folding chairs in the middle of our empty living room floor. “Sit down for a minute. You look like you could use a little break.”

And then my brother came over to me before I collapsed into one of the chairs, embraced me in a bear hug and whispered into my ear, “You did good, Lucie. You both did good, and I’m proud of you.”

Yes we did. And we continue to do good with the support of loving, kind family members, friends and strangers who want nothing for us but good things.

We still don’t have television, haven’t read a newspaper in days, and are still waiting for the Maytag people to pick-up the broken microwave and repair the new washer and dryer, but life is good at our end, People, and I pray that life is good with you, too.

Be well and I’ll catch ya the next time, looking at life from my shoes.

 

 

Advertisements

Published by

Lucie

After much encouragement and prodding by family, friends and professionals, I (a former Special ed. teacher and consultant from Northern Ca.) decided to take my FACEBOOK postings on my silly life with my life partner and 2 wacky cats and share them with a broader audience. I've brought laughter and joy to a number of people now for quite a few months and sincerely hope that I can bring a chuckle or two to all who read my bi- weekly entries on my blog. (Now let's hope that I can muster enough competence to figure out how to use this site in a reasonably competent fashion, so that I still have fun writing and others can actually "find me"!!!!) I wish all who enter "Lucie's World" much joy and laughter and ask that if I've touch your life in any way and made you giggle or smile, that you "pay it forward" for the week and share a moment or two of laughter with someone that you care about....

23 thoughts on “It’s All Good”

    1. Thanks, Mitch! It’s a cold, yucky feeling with no chairs, lights, etc. We’re “sitting in luxury” these days, though, so no complaints..life is good! ;>)

      Like

    1. Thanks, Beth. Friends have kept us “in the know”, to some degree, about the world news….would have just as soon stayed “in the dark”…oh well..so much for the saying, “Ignorance is bliss!” ;>)

      Like

  1. And just like that, you’re in Washington. Hard work, persistence, tests, and many stories and you made it happen. Your human spirit of adventure is still active and present. Many congratulations to you both as you go around and around in those darn round abouts in Washington State, home of the new Bochi Ball tournaments.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I miss you like crazy, woman! But it was the right thing to do….my life is already less stressful….PLS give my love to my APE buddies. It was people like them that “loved me” into my decision…pls extend my love and hugs to each of them. I care deeply about their well-being and pray that everyone is well. Encourage them to connect via my blog or email. (((HUGS))) Lucie

      Like

    1. Thank you, Little Momma! I need to check in with you and my blogging buddies to catch up with your lives…and no, I never did really explain my move…maybe someday in “that book” that’s still in my head and heart! (((Hugs))) Lucie

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Oh, so I didn’t miss it! Or forgot why ya’ll moved. You Kids are a lot braver than me! I could never do it, and if I did, it would have to benefit me at least 99.9% to do it! Good luck and God Bless!

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Got tired of the heat, the traffic, the affluence and entitlement….simply put: Paradise became hell when the tech companies started building in our town…too many people….was sad because we thought we were “home in CA”….Paradise became HELL in a period of 2 years….many people have left. Thanks for the encouragement. ❤

        Like

  2. What a joyous relief it is to read this piece and discover that, even with rainy weather, the sorrow of leaving a home you loved, and roundabouts, it’s all good and you haven’t lost your ability to write well and make us laugh. I’ll be home this weekend. Let’s get in touch about resuming our chats. I have missed them so.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Not as much as I have!! (Missed our conversations!) Let’s connect, soon, Little Buddy. I’ve been in “withdrawals” from lack of connection and need some semblance of a routine… ;>) (((HUGS))) Lucie Travel safely home! ❤

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Glad to see you are finally home! We’ve missed you.

    Now, about those boxes. My dad left his little parish in NC in 1991 and moved to Baltimore. The house they purchased was too small for all of their “stuff”, so it was stored in our barn. My dad died in 1999, and my mum moved into a retirement center, and stored her extra “stuff” in our barn. She dies in 2010, and we put all of her…well, we are STILL unpacking boxes!

    Mum never threw away ANYTHING. Pencil stubs, wound with a rubber band, my dad’s fountain pen, which still had ink in it!, note pads from various cities (clergy move around, y’a know), one large carton containing nothing but fabric scraps from clothing she’d made.

    If nothing else, she makes a good warning.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you. I Missed my “blogging buddies”, as well. You always crack me up with your stories….guess I have nothing to grip about with “MY boxes”! ;>) (((Hugs))) Lucie

      Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s