And So We Roll....

"You still gonna buy Mother's house?"

It was my father on the phone. I was at work, preparing to leave. My only plans for the evening were to put away laundry and then sit outside and chuck shells off pecans. Pretty simple evening, right?

"Yeah," I said. "Whenever she gets ready to sell it."

"She's ready," he responded. "She signed the papers on a new place today and made the down payment. So whatever you need to do, do it fast."

Oh...*#!@

And this is how it goes, one moment your life is flowing in a smooth, predictable pattern, the next everything is thrown into sudden, swift chaos.

There is suddenly so much to do. I have to call the bank again and tell them to take my 'preapproval' and put it into active loan status. I take a deep breath. This is a good thing, a step up, an amazing opportunity and a blessing of unprecedented proportion. I'll have a large studio. We'll have a guest bedroom. A fenced in yard. She's leaving all of her appliances. Old Duke Rate. There's a window at the kitchen sink where I can put a bird feeder. There's a shed in the back that my son's already claimed as his workshop. It's at the end of a cul-de-sac. Hardwood floors throughout, real ones. A mud room for shoes, coats and boots. A back porch. So much landscaping potential. Ample parking for the gatherings I like to host. A former co-worker two houses down with a grandchild my son's age. Lots of space for bikes, skateboards, and scooters.

When I came home last night, I could barely breathe for the amount of work and stress and financial expenditures I know I'm about to face to get this all done. I've not moved in ten years. I've not bought a house in ten years, and I've never sold one. I'm far from ready. But if I wait until I am ready, the moment might pass. So I leap in, because I know that what threw this catalyst into motion was my own spontaneous offer to buy the house at Christmas. It came out of me from nowhere while I was visiting; I did not go over there with the plans to say that, just like I did not go to lunch with a friend a few days ago and plan to ask about summer teaching positions at a local college, nor did I go into a large metaphysical shop a few weeks ago and plan to sell them on the card line I'm about to launch. But all of these catalysts were launched into action when my higher self propelled them into being by stating them out loud and giving them breath, life, a chance to be real.

My trust that all will work out for the highest and greatest good and my belief in intuition and the wisdom of the higher self absolves me of any fear when leaping into these situations. I see nothing but the good. I do not focus on the sadness of leaving the home and neighbourhood we love; rather I ask myself, do I really still want to be in the same place ten years from now? Do I want my son to miss out on the pluses of a bigger home, fenced in yard, and opportunity for new experience because I was hesitant, afraid, lacked belief in myself? This home has room for more people, and we both want that. Not tomorrow, necessarily, but at some point, we know we want to make sure if new people come into our lives, we have room for them in our lives, our hearts and our homes.

While we love where we live now, we barely have room for ourselves, and so I know I'm opening the door to a world of potential with the new house. And my creativity, which has stagnated somewhat since the end of July, I'm hoping will get a kick-start of inspiration once I have a studio of my own to create in. This is possibly what I am the most excited about. I can already visualize how it will look in my head. I can visualize the dining room, den, and even the bathrooms (one's tiled in pink!)

I'm so excited. Last night the realtor came and we did all the necessary paperwork to list mine to sell. When I come home from work today, there will be a sign out. I'll spend the next few weeks packing. "Are you sad to be leaving?" my mom asks, and I say no. Not because it's true, but because there is simply no time to waste being sentimental, and it's not in my nature to wax poetic over what is past.

How long have I wanted and dreamed of a house with all of these attributes? Too long to think twice about not leaping.

And so we roll...