Mike and I
… have been on the road since March 20, almost six weeks. Although much of that time has been spent in SD’s basement in Chicago, we consider ourselves nomads. The basement is actually garden level, fully finished, with lovely views of the street. SD and MBP are cheerful and accommodating, making us feel welcome.
Mike and I stroll the lush neighborhood, contemplating living here part time. We would be close to two of our children and their families, including our newest grandchild, LLJ.
…reminds us of one of our reasons for leaving. Many people aggrandize Chicago. No one boasts of its weather. Yesterday was 80 degrees, sunny. Today is 50 and gray. The vacillation discourages routine except for the hardy. The cold gray humidity provokes my headache and lethargy. I am not hardy.
Summer can be wonderful or miserable, depending upon the humidity. It can change within the hour. No one boasts of Chicago weather.
… is Peoria, Arizona. ED and her boys wait for us. Okay, they don’t wait. The boys barely notice our presence or absence. But much of our love abides there. We have good friends, family. And most of the year, glorious weather without headache.
We are preparing
…for the next stage, whatever it is. We are committed to house sharing until Mowgli graduates high school, another four years. Now in our eighth decade, Mike and I understand that much can happen in that time, mocking any plans we make. It is not the time to decide on where we will spend our elder years.
But we simplify our lives. Family heirlooms are distributed to younger loving hands. Knick knacks requiring care without sparking joy are donated. Photo albums are emptied, their contents digitized.
Mike brought several albums on this trip and has spent downtime scanning photos. We have a good time recalling long-forgotten people and events. We feel a little guilty when we realize that we have lost a memory completely.
Before discarding the photos, I glance at them. I snap shots of my beloved deceased cousin to send to her widower. Forty plus year old photos of neighbors are shared on Facebook. The photo of our family skinny dipping at the lake goes into the family chat.
Then they go into the trash
…for the hotel housekeepers to find. What do they think? Are the photos the remnants of a broken relationship? Evidence of a disturbed mind contemplating anarchy?
Or the deeds of a couple celebrating a full life while preparing for the next stage, unencumbered by the past, saving their energy for the future?