A new entry from Loving and Leaving the Fort
17 November 2014
Why do people move? I imagine there are a lot of reasons. Your job relocated you. You got approved for that mortgage and are finally going into your dream home. School. The landlord is selling the house, or perhaps, you’re simply ready for a change.
Whatever the reason, it can be exciting, sometimes traumatic and I believe in all cases exhausting. For me, it was all three.
The trauma and excitement were rolled up in one. A new adventure was before me, but I was leaving behind a place that held me in an embrace that comforted away the worries of the day.
I found myself recently trying to comfort a friend who couldn’t see beyond the sadness of a break-up that left her torn and heart broken. Of course there are the old clichés, “There’s plenty of fish in the sea.” “There’s always sunshine after rain.” “When one door closes another one opens.” These are just a few that come to mind. Being there for your friends is the important thing. You won’t be able to take away the pain in that moment; they have to go through the mourning process in their own time. What I have found, through personal experience, is the next love is a higher love. It has to be, or you’ll keep looking back, idealizing, instead of being in the present. After living on my own for a couple years, how I loved the sound of my own laughter. I’d learned I could enjoy myself without depending on someone else, and then along came Jimmy who also appreciates the simple pleasures that make up each day, my “Higher Love”
It’s been the same leaving Fort Square. I’ve enjoyed making it my home for the past 23 years, but I’m moving into the future knowing I will find the next great chapter in my life.
I spent the 80s in Mt. Washington Valley. I was kind of fresh out of High School, embarking on what, I didn’t know, but I was ready, ready to become an adult and see something different. Not far from home, Gloucester, but a complete change from sea and shoreline.
I’d made a good choice for myself. I found the mountains to be as powerful as the ocean. I’d made it “Over the Bridge,” and I was hooked. How breathtaking to see Mt. Washington topped with snow in the morning light. Add the beautiful colors of autumn to the picture and you find yourself parked, taking it all in and perhaps being late for work.
The seasons are so giving in the mountains. Ah, to hear the rush of snow melt in a brook along a woodsy path. The awakening shock of diving into a hidden pool formed by those rushing waters on a hot Summer’s day, the smell of cider and those of country fairs with the promise of warmth in a barn full of big brown-eyed cows and bleating goats. Even winter doesn’t seem as harsh. Snowfall is invited; it adds its own magic.