Pinch me already because it seems I'm in a waking state and dreaming. I'm not certain if it's a good dream, or the makings of a nightmare. The agency we're working with has found three adult women to move into our home with Miss Rachel. We've been inching toward this for so long and were not having luck finding roommates for our daughter; the early morning call to give us the news was a complete surprise. Now I feel like I'm on a runaway train.
Next week, we'll meet the women individually with their guardians or parents to see if we'll have a good fit here with them. I'm nervous. I'm not anxious about me liking them, I'm anxious they'll not like me or the house. How crazy is that? I really want this to work out alright and I'm getting my hair in a knot thinking things won't work. As a family, we've had so many hard knocks that it's accepted thought that something will go wrong. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop and for the universe to kick me back into my place. I must be very cheeky to think it's finally time to live a normal sort of life.
We've been casually looking for a house to move into ourselves and now I'm thinking, what do I take and what do I leave? They won't have much to make it a home if I take it all. I can't leave the antiques-those absolutely have to go with us. So does the dog. My yarn. My knitting books. My favorite reads. What about the junk in the kitchen? What do I take? The Kitchen Aid, the coffee pot, and the Cuisinart all have to go. My Global knives. My All-Clad pots. My art. My Tempurpedic bed. It's hard to separate the wheat from the chaff because what may seem of little value, may actually be quite special. Things like the cutting board my son made for me, or the pottery my daughter made in grade school are all precious.
I don't even know where to begin and suddenly feel quite nauseous about it all. Of course I'm solely focused on the concrete things that make a house a home, but what I think is really making me spin is the thought of whether or not this is the right thing for our daughter. It is, right? She deserves to attempt to blossom. She needs to have a place in a home in the event we weren't here anymore. I've seen what happens when families fail to plan, and their kids end up in nursing homes or institutions. I'd be broken hearted if this happened to her. This way, we have control and she has a real home.
Selfishly, can it really be time for me? For us? It's been so hard to stay glued together when it seemed so many times, the sky was falling. Can we really have the freedom we've wanted for so many years? It may not seem like a big deal to most people, but even running up to a convenience store at midnight has taken planning for us. Can we really just pick up and run to Toronto or Chicago for a weekend? Slap me silly! I can't believe it's true.