We’re in the middle of moving.
We had to find a new house (half the size of our current one). We’ve been figuring out how to downsize and fit into a much smaller space (a very good challenge, but a challenge nonetheless). We’ve been getting our current house ready to sell (I’ve tended not to notice too much when things needed fixing or painting, but I know someone else will). Bustle, hustle. Hustle, bustle.
I actually really enjoy all the challenges involved in moving and selling, and I tend to give them a lot of attention. The fact is—and I don’t know what you’ll think about this—I even dream about them. (For example, I dreamed that my son set down a hot pan on the white countertops and burned a spot into them that I couldn’t scrub out. Okay, so I didn’t enjoy that part so much.)
So there’s a lot of emphasis on the temporal. On things that really, in the big picture, just aren’t that important.
But today I’m sitting in a hospital waiting room with two young girls whose single mother has cancer. Continue reading