It happens often when I'm knitting. I get lost in the simply rhythm of working the needles. Of wrapping the yarn. Of adding to the fabric one stitch at a time. There is this magical moment when there are just enough stitched on the left needle waiting to be worked, and just the right about of space on the right needle into which you can slide new stitches that the process becomes totally free and natural and dreamy. An easy kind of mindfulness washes over me and at that time there exists nothing by the rhythm of the work. It's blissful...much like practicing yoga really.
Last night I was knitting along on my sweater (I know...I need to show you some pictures...soon, I promise) with the Olympics playing in the background. The girls and the hubby had been put to bed. In the quiet of the night I found myself totally lost in that magical rhythm. Then suddenly I "awoke" and I honestly had to remind myself that the events and conversations of the past few days were in fact reality and not a dream.
We...are moving. I'm still having a hard time wrapping my head around that concept. While our family has faced a lot of change in the past 2.5 years our home, our community, and (at least for the girls and I) our routines have stayed mostly constant. That is all about to change. In fact the only thing that will stay the same is the thing that normally has been the subject of change...Scott's job. I can't lie dear readers, I'm finding it all quite overwhelming.
Whether it's the arising of old demons from enduring many moves as a child or simply the characteristics of my personality shining through, anxiety has started to surface.
"If only we didn't have to sell the house."
"If only we didn't have so much debt."
"If only I didn't have to put myself out there in search of a new job for myself."
I have a lot of "If only..." scenarios dialoguing themselves out in my head. I'm trying to stay positive and project a sense of adventure for the sake of my girls who have already expressed some of their own worries and hesitations. Brea has been pretty open to this new undertaking and has started telling everyone we come across "We are moving to Des Moines to be closer to Titan Tire where Daddy works." Lexi, being an old soul and as cautious and sentimental as her mother, has approached the news with a few more tears and a bit more hesitation. Though to her credit she has already started to talk about having her own room in our new house and wonders what her new school will look like.
More than anything right now I know that it is all the unknowns that has my head a-whirl. Not knowing if our house will be easy to sell in the current market. Not knowing what type of income I will be able to secure. Not knowing if we'll need to consider childcare options. Not knowing what type of housing we will be able to find. And while we have a community in mind in which we are going to start our search for a new home, "the Des Moines metro area" is about as specific as I can get right now as to knowing where we will begin to grow new roots. I've been a part of the Grinnell community as long (almost longer) than any other community throughout my entire life. Pulling up roots here is not going to be an easy task. It's gonna take some shoveling.
Yesterday I started to go through the kitchen cupboards. Started the process of de-stashing the build-up of excess that occurs when you've inhabited a home for any length of time. On one hand it felt great to get rid of all that crap and clutter which has served no purpose other than taking up space in our cupboards. On the other hand I am saddened by the amount of excess our family has accumulated in the short span of 6 years. Brea and I made our first (of I'm sure what will be many) trip to Goodwill today. It was sorta freeing and therapeutic in its own way. I'm hoping that with each of those trips I can not only pass on the possessions which we no longer have use for, but also release some of the anxiety associated with the process. I guess it's ALL part of the process. The good, the bad, the tears, the excitement and the anxiety.
I'm thankful that through it all I know I have only to pick up my needles to find a little escape from the flurry of thoughts and worries. Thank goodness for my knitting!