|Even as a little girl, I was a list maker. I planned my outfits. I wrote reminders for myself to eat breakfast and clean my room when I had zero responsibilities. I loved the feeling I had when I marked an item complete.|
So, waiting to hear back from landlords of ho-hum places to see if I’m the one they chose from the mass of applicants they received is not easy. Doing something, anything, to work towards a goal feels natural. Not doing anything takes me out of my comfort zone, big time. All my fellow Capricorns, you get it.
My best friend recently celebrated a monumental birthday, and I was fortunate enough to be able to go to Chicago for her big pre-birthday dinner. She always asks everyone on their birthdays, “what did you learn this past year?” I’ve shamelessly stolen her beautiful question on everyone else’s birthday since. And, when I celebrated my last birthday in December, I told anyone who would listen that I learned in 2021 to be happy, no matter what was happening in my life. Not bad dancing, singing out-of-tune-to-terrible-music happy but peaceful and calm, even in uncertainty, even when things aren’t great.
So, maybe on my next birthday, I can say that I learned humility this year. Or, perhaps my lists are limiting me. Or that no matter what, I’ll fill my next home with love and gratitude and whatever Gavin needs in this next chapter to feel happy and relaxed.
Yesterday, after the first good night’s sleep I’ve had in weeks, I was so grateful for EmiLee, my wonderful employee who thanks me a million times every time she comes to work. I was joyful for an eager Gavin who danced around, asking for his walk. There was a time he didn’t crawl out from under my bed covers until noon and only reluctantly left the house for our 15-minute drive to a kids’ park. And when we went for our walk, I was thankful that I allowed myself to listen to the birds chirping and catch glimpses of the quiet river along our path.
When I arrived home and checked all the available listings for the zillionth time, a new place popped up as available. It’s perfect and in my price range. So, I’m going to the Open House Saturday with neatly organized necessary documents, neighbor references, photos of how I keep my place now, and maybe even cookies. The competition is fierce.
When I talked to my best friend on her actual birthday, I asked how she felt about entering a new decade. She (as she always does) gushed with gratitude about all the people who came out for her celebration. She expounded that we helped her softly land into the next phase of her life. And, I (as I often do) told her I’d shamelessly steal that phrase.
Soft landings, may we ease into every transition. May we not make the act of nothing-ever stays-the-same harder than it has to be. And, may we make light of each landing because there’s no such thing as landed.