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I am moving into a new home at the end of the month. a beautiful space, deeper into the heart of the north end, 6 blocks from my mom, 1 block away from my dear friend eric, a little closer to everything. I have been dreading the idea of moving for awhile and now it cannot happen fast enough. escape from this museum of “what used to be”, so that I can move forward with my life. 

almost two years ago exactly, we had just moved into this house. we had been here about a month and a half. blissfully, utterly happy. early one morning I was laying in bed, the windows open, a cool breeze blowing. doves cooing, birds singing, cats on the bed, the man I loved asleep next to me, my precious daughter asleep in her room. everything worth having was under this roof.  I remember being sated on every conceivable level and breathing deeply of the fullness of my happiness and my life. and, I remember quite clearly thinking, “ I could die right now and be completely happy.” it felt so absolutely true, I turned it over in my mind another time or two, marveling at the level of my content. less than a month later I found a lump in my right breast…(whoa….jk!?)

the scales must tip, right? for such intense light to exist there must be an equal measure of darkness. and tip they did. some of the greatest fear, sadness and despair I have ever felt in my life. all of it at once. I shared with a friend the memory of the “ I could die right now” moment and she said, “how lucky are you to have felt that. most people never know that kind of content, peace and happiness ever in their lives.” what she said was true, and as I thought about it I was able to pull up many such moments in my life. so many specific times of being so full. so saturated in the beauty of life, it felt as if there couldn’t possibly be anything more in store. but there is. there always is. there keeps being more beauty, more love, more joy, more laughter, more hope.

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there is also always more sickness, heartbreak, disappointment, depression, death, anger, fear, hurt, pain and sadness. we just keep getting all of it.

this house has held it all, and somehow it has weighed heavier on me in the last month than it has in the last year. in this short, short expanse of time, everything is different. nothing is even remotely the same, and I stand here on the edge of  a vaguely familiar dream of another time and place. trapped in a hall of memories, that half of the time don’t even feel like they are mine, but something I made up. 

“some infinities are bigger than other infinities. I wanted more of those numbers than I got. but I cannot tell you how grateful I am for our little infinity. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. you gave me a forever within the numbered days, and I’m grateful. “

 –hazel grace “the fault in our stars”

last night after I wrote this and went to bed, an amazing windstorm shook the house. I had all of the windows open and it felt like yet another clearing. ghosts being chased from the corners and set free. every day another clearing. every moment, a clearing.

a softening. yet always remembering. i got to experience that. all of that.

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so as I begin to box up, clean out, yardsale, craig’s list, I give thanks for all of it. the pain is beginning to tip toward happiness again. a little bit at a time. and I think we will really love this new place for us to land, my girl and i. for she and i to start a new life together, before she leaves to start her new life in the fall of 2014…we get a tiny infinity between now and then….

and from now on, I think I will choose to be so happy, I could just LIVE. knowing that someday I will be ready for another love soaked infinity. hopefully a longer infinity. someday. i am an infinity love junkie and right now i get to saturate in my own personal infinity with myself and my girl.  I like that for us very, very much.