Happening

June 14, 2012 By in Petulance 50 Comments

Six more days. The truck will be here next Wednesday morning, and we’ll be on our way. I have a strange, uneasy feeling that something awful will happen to fuck it up. It’s that tense moment before your dream date arrives, when you’re certain he meant to call some other girl or has been staging a long and elaborate joke at your expense. Surely this is not really happening for me. I can’t really, finally be moving to Oregon.

But other good things are happening, have happened without a hitch. My daughter graduated yesterday. She didn’t fail her final exams, or forget to get some crucial paper signed, or trip down the stage after receiving her diploma. Not that any of that was likely. Just possible. But she sidestepped all those obstacles and graduated with her class, and afterward we gave her a laptop and took her to brunch and it all turned out just fine. My baby is grown up. She’s happy and healthy and out with her friends tonight to celebrate. A tiny voice in my head is whispering, See there? Nothing up my sleeve.

And this was Drew’s last day on the job. Everyone at work was nice to him and he got all the money he was entitled to and some letters of recommendation and it all went fine. He’ll be taking over the logistics of this move and for that I am grateful. He’s the kind of man who makes things turn out okay. I cling to his arm (ever helpful), he wields the machete, and together we always manage to get through the jungle with nothing more serious than a couple of scratches. (Which he’ll attend to, since he’s remembered the first aid kit.)

It’s going to happen. It really is.

I’m not letting Drew out of my sight.

Do you worry at the end?

50 Responses

  3. I always worry. I can’t help it. Must just be one of the facets of human nature that is more pronounced in some of us. I’m “Back East” for a week (Rhode Island and Brooklyn) and I keep expecting something terrible to happen to mess up this little trip, but so far the worst thing has been not being able to find a good, soft salted pretzel like we have in Kansas City. (Also, eating a week’s worth of food in one meal. Dammit!)

    It’s reasonable to expect something to go wrong with a major life event like a move. Something is bound to be different or unpleasant or difficult or whatever. Just roll with it. Add it to your memory bucket. Show the world (and yourself) that you’re bigger than the problem. At least, that’s the attitude I carry along on these kinds of things. Sometimes it even helps.

    • You’re right about the memory bucket. So far the worst thing–and actually it’s kind of awful–is that my big kids won’t be moving with us. For some reason I must never have faced the fact that they might want to stay in Vegas with all their friends and family. I always imagined us in Portland together.

      But children grow up and get to make their own choices, and we can’t foist our dreams on them and guilt them into submission. This is the start of something new. A smaller nest, a more adult relationship with my big kids. It will be good for us.

      (No salted pretzels in Brooklyn? I’m shocked by that.)

      • I haven’t made it to Brooklyn yet. I’m still in Rhode Island, where I can’t (yet) find those pretzels. One more day to try.

  4. I often worry when things are going well that the universe and its minions will once again put me in my place. I mean, really—who do I think I am?

    But you and your wonderful, dreamed-of, worked-for relocation to the promised land? No worries there at all.

    • I agree with Sarah! You’ve worked for and earned this. Sure, there are bound to be little slip ups, but you shouldn’t let that worry you in the slightest.

  5. Have a safe and happy journey!

    There’s never a guarantee when the internet provider will show in that small country over the pond, so I will probably be unplugged for a while. And yes, I worry. We fly out later today and I did not sleep last night. Return tickets are the only things allowing me to board that plane.

    Best of luck!

  6. Worrying is natural. But, sometimes, not having sex is natural, too. That doesn’t mean you should go down that road! Have sex! Don’t worry, sweetie! Please don’t worry. The energy you’re sending out in worries will zip around and slap you. (How’s that for a warning?)

    (About to launch my new blog — all I’ve got up is an empty first page and “ABOUT” me — but, not hiding anymore….didjyall know it was Jody?)

  7. Moving itself is enough of a trauma for me (I’ve done it at least a dozen times in the last 18 years) that I don’t worry about anything bad happening, I expect it. Oddly enough, no catastrophes have ever occurred.

    • When I was a kid, I used to think of worries as mental talismans against the actual feared event. I thought, if I foresee that it might happen, it won’t.

      Nicely set up for a lifetime of worrying, as you see.

      • I am exactly the same way, but that’s changing. Ultimately, shit happens but suffering is the (optional) response. The shit happens in the world, but the suffering happens in the mind. I’m now at the point where I’d rather just have the shit happening at me than inside my head. Then it’s just a matter of dealing. And even in the worst conditions, there’s always the possibility (and even more so, the likelihood) of love and joy. One of the best and worst times of my life was when my husband was going through chemo. I was so alive then. I’m trying to cultivate that focused awareness without actually going through (or having a loved one go through) that hell. But the hell is surely an impetus.

  9. I worry at the beginning, the middle, the end, and all the times in-between.

    Congratulations, Averil. You have really made something wonderful happen in your life. (Two big things, actually, when you count the book.)

    Beyond all that, all I can think of is the glory of having six days to focus entirely on the move. That’s smart! I moved last Saturday; I was at work until almost 5pm on Friday and back in the office Monday morning. Because this house thing happened fairly fast, and because I was in Denver on a business trip for most of last week before the move (and, okay, also because I procrastinate) I did the majority of my packing Friday night into Saturday morning. NOT FUN.

    But your move will go beautifully. Enjoy every inch of the trip that takes you to Portland next week.

    • Yes, the packing has been leisurely and I’ve had plenty of time to sort and clean everything before it goes into a box. It’s going to make settling in much easier on the other end, and that will give us a jump start for the job hunt and all the other things we need to do once we get there.

      I’m excited about your new home, Laura. And you own it, which is a thrill because of all the creative possibilities (like new floors, right?). You’re going to have a lot of fun feathering that nest.

  10. Averil, I am very happy for you. Yes, things go wrong. Yes, plans go awry. Yes, life is a vale of tears through which we trudge, the sun occasionally breaking through the clouds. But when the sun breaks through! What glory!

    Now, to parallel matters and other related matters. First, the juxtaposition of your question and the photo. Do I worry at the end? At that end, no. I might worry only if Susan caught me lingering too long over that photo.

    As you may recall from previous postings, Susan and I are also moving. We don’t get to go to anywhere so nice as Portland, we are only moving across town. But I promised her–I promised!–that in one year’s time we will move to Chicago, where she was born and raised and to which city she longs to return. I don’t care where we have to live and what jobs we have to take when we get there. It’s a big city–a so-called “World City”–and I know we will find a suitable home and jobs to keep us therein. It is said the winters there are brutal. I call canard. Millions of people live there. Important commerce is transacted there. Cultural lodestones are to be found there. How brutal could the winters be and still allow for all that?

    Tomorrow and Sunday are the big moving days for us from this home we are in to what we plan and fervently hope will be our final home en La Tierra Encantada. And the move could not come too soon. Our nazi-neighbor to the immediate south has been up in arms these past two months over our cats. Her anger has led her to the delusion of imagining that every cat in the neighborhood belongs to us. Yesterday she sent Susan an email making threats and false claims. Nazi-neighbor doesn’t send me these emails. Nazi-neighbor is a coward and a bully, which is not surprising, as such persons frequently are such. She doesn’t seem to have clued to the fact that Susan forwards the emails to me and I respond. Though I had taken the day off work yesterday to pack, I took an hour off packing to draft a considered and pointed response to nazi-neighbor. Distilled, my response said, Back the fuck off, bitch, or I’ll sue you six ways from Sunday and find some criminal charges to tattoo on your forehead to boot. Nazi-neighbor has not yet responded.

    No, I didn’t tell nazi-neighbor we’re moving this weekend. She already knows we’re moving this summer. She has said, Don’t let the door hit you on your way out even though I’m going to slam it. To which, as I noted above, my most recent response, to wit: You wanna go to war? I’ll take you to war.

    But I don’t want war. I have myriad more important things to do.

    As do you. Averil, I am very happy for you and looking forward to your future postings. This is the best place in town.

    • Nazi-neighbor sounds EXACTLY like my ex-husband. A coward and a bully sums it up perfectly. I’m glad you’re buggin’ the hell out of there. And when she sees the cats left behind, she’ll probably feel like an ass for imagining them all to be yours. Or maybe that’s optimistic. More likely she’ll figure you abandoned them. You degenerate cat-man you.

      I’m happy you’re on the one-year plan. It will give Susan something to look forward to, and as Drew and I have discovered, you can save a bucketload of money in a year if you set your minds to it. (Of course, a bucketload to Drew and me is more like a tin cup to some people, but I suppose that depends on your perspective.)

      Good luck this weekend, my friend. Careful of your toes.

      • Soon as nazi-neighbor caught sight of the U-Haul van pulling past her house with the first load out this morning, she pulled a chair out to her front yard and sat under the spreading birdshit tree to watch. She was there all day as my son, Owen, and I loaded up and left a half-dozen times. At one point the neighbors on the other side were out and she went to tell them about how she was driving the degenerate cat-people out of her neighborhood. They looked at us–we and they had just exchanged waves of greeting–and then back at her, on their faces the puzzled looks of people wondering, What is this crazy person talking about?

        On the day’s final drive by her yard, where she sat in her chair, watching us, Owen gave her a slight salute of a wave to say, We know you’ve been watching us all day, lady–hope you enjoyed the show. Owen was a champ today. He’s 24 and works as a low-level manager at Target. And he is a big, strong human being. He moved a lot of heavy items (all those boxes of books, my God! and the washer and dryer!), after which Susan and I took him to Rudy’s Country Store and Bar-B-Q for a hefty dinner of barbecued beast, creamed corn, cold bottled beer, and pecan pie. He used to work at Rudy’s, till he got tired of smelling like barbecue and quit. Tomorrow he works an early shift at Target, then he helps me and Susan move our bedroom to our new home. We take the cats in cat carriers in the U-Haul on the last trip and then we are out of here except for the clean up.

      • You and I are running on a parallel track these days. What a freak that neighbor chick is, to sit there under the birdshit tree staring at you all day. Here’s hoping a pigeon dive-bombs her.

        Owen sounds like a fine young man, with his father’s level head. My teens have been really good about the move too, but the kid who’s really surprised me is my youngest. He sorted and packed up his room and all the DVDs, cleaned and scrubbed and hauled out loads of garbage. He never complains. I praised him to that effect yesterday and he got this shy, pleased smile which he tried to hide. I said he deserves a big reward when we get to Portland, what would he like?

        Brownies, he said. Homemade. With chocolate chips in them.

        The kid is fucking adorable. Seriously.

        I hope you’re settling in today, beginning to look for a place to stash all your books. I was ruthless with mine, but it hurt like a sonofabitch to let them go.

  11. Every trip scares the shit out of me even ones across town. Still I take off in the next necessary direction. Since I’m always taking myself of course there are problems, large and small, ones I cause and ones unavoidable by all. Mindfulness, deep breathing, good coffee, my husband’s steady voice all keep me focused with the fears swirl. Have fun along the way. Sounds simple, but it truly is the key.

  12. It’s really happening for you! Off to greener pastures.
    I’ve got three days at old job, three days off and then the new one begins. Far from excited, I’m terrified and see how horribly I handle big change.
    Now if I was leaving this job to be a full-time writer, part-time plant waterer, that I could get behind and never look back.

    • Three days left! This is a nerve-wracking time, but you are going to be fabulous at your new job and relieved to have left the old one behind. It’s a good, positive step for you. And on the bright side, you have plenty of time to save for your own move when the opportunity presents itself.

      (No full-time writing job for me. Though there may be a few houseplants in my future. . . .)

      XO

  13. i was wanting to get you something to celebrate your new move and now i know what it is:

    instead of you worrying this time, why don’t you let me take that task for now. i will do all the worrying for you and your move for the next month. 30 days of worry. on me. free of charge. my house warming gift to you and Drew.

    this gift includes all forms of worry, from brief moments of fretting to deep-in-the-night anxiety and heartwrenching anxiousness about everything from:
    packing and unpacking
    the drive
    the kids staying behind
    jobs
    making it work
    publishers, writing, books, reading
    forgetting something
    it not being what you thought it would
    it being everything you thought it would and more and still worrying
    drew leaving a job
    drew’s new job
    your new job
    again, your writing (i’m really good at worrying about writing stuff)
    finding your way in a new city
    where to grocery shop
    where to get coffee
    where to get fresh fruit and the vegetables you like to hand pick
    where to buy shoes
    is there a camera store?
    what if the house is haunted
    what if it’s not? (i kinda dig friendly spirits who watch over me)

    what else? give it to me. seriously, i want to do all the worrying for you so that you can appreicate and take in this moment in all its glory.

    “Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” Mark Twain

    • This is the best present EVER! I have a few more additions:

      School/summer camp/new friends for my little guy
      Drew won’t like the rain . . .
      and will be unhappy.
      Or one/all of my kids will be unhappy
      Or my mother, sister, fourth cousin once removed . . .

      Generally, if you could add anyone’s unhappiness to any part of the scenario, that would about cover it.

      And I didn’t get you anything.

      XO

  14. The woman who got the flu and lost her voice and had nose bleeds the whole week before her move? Me? Nervous in the end??

    Nah.
    ;-)

    Good luck, Averil and Drew! I’m so damned thrilled for you!!! It will all go great.

      • It has been absolutely fantastic. One week down, one to go.

        Good luck with the move — we’ll talk when you’re in (ahem!) Portland. Put that Drew in charge and sit back with a nice cup of tea….

  15. The thing about endings is they are also beginnings. I think it’s the beginning part I worry about more than the ending.

  17. I love how you decide to do something and then make it happen. Drew may be a large part of the equation, but don’t sell your contribution short, my friend.

    Congratulations on this next big adventure!

    As for worry – it’s in my nature, a well-honed skill. And a complete waste of time.

    Now, at the end, I hold my breath until it’s over. xoxoxoxo

    • August! My plan to lure you in with ass pics worked. I’m so pleased with myself.

      That song belongs on a movie soundtrack.

      I’m trying to write a story around this one at the moment. Not sure whether it’s working but I’m considering it a place-keeper until I have time to start the next novel.

      • I can see the appeal. She’s got a Fiona Apple appeal, very loose. But I don’t think Fiona catches that kind of air.

        Here’s a little shimmy for you.

  19. Deny, deny, deny the Worry. Denial is soooooooooooo under rated! Then, keep SUPER BUSY, which I know you’re doing. I know these are cliches, but they work. That, and going to bed totally exhausted, with aching muscles and a weary brain. Let Worry try to infiltrate that!!!

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