This summer I felt like we were riding a wave.
Good news would come with a crescendo and we’d be riding high and then bad news would come and we would be eating sand and picking ourselves up with shells stuck to our faces.
We sold our house and rented a new one. Not only did we sell our house but also we sold many of our over-sized belongings. Over-sized is, of course, a relative term because in our 1700 square foot house the belongings fit; in our 778 square foot house not so much.
There was a gap during the sell and the move in. In the gap I stayed over night at my sister in law’s in Northern Virginia, at my boss’s house, at one of my best friend’s empty digs, at another oldie but bestie’s place, at the Schooner Inn in Virginia Beach with my husband for three nights, in a Sandbridge condo with twenty of my family members for seven days, and at my brother’s house-mate’s home while he was in rehabilitation center but we had to leave because he died and then we had a funeral to go to as well.
I don’t mean to be glib about his death but I was beginning to feel like I was in either a “Twin Peaks” episode or in “Three’s Company” running circles around a couch with Jack Tripper and Mr. Roper. At the very least, the death made me stop whining about not having a permanent place to put my shoes and think about someone else for a while.
During this time of wandering and couch crashing my husband continued to work several jobs from our rotating home bases and I once cried in a parking lot because I had nowhere to go.
I got dressed for the funeral in my boss’s boss’s office wearing a shirt I bought from Target because my one nice outfit was buried at the bottom of our storage space the size of a small office.
Donovan has been to Camp Hanover and Beth Page Resort; he has stayed with relatives and at his best friend’s house; and recently he went on our 20- person family beach trip.
The same day we all came back from the beach, still wiping remnants of sand from our feet, we moved into our new home.
That last day at the beach riding wave after wave and picking myself up from a face plant on the shore with a smile on my face I thought that no one hopes for calm waters all the time.
Sure, you want a break after being dashed about willy-nilly for six minutes but then when the water calms and you’re looking out at dolphins or the giant bill of a sea bird as it gulps after prancing fish, you start to feel the pull of the undercurrent; you start to look for the cresting water; you start to hope for the rising roll of water; and you start to tremble as the white-tipped wall of water begins to advance.
You are going to ride that wave and if it leaves you stranded like a fish gasping for water then so be it because you will pick yourself up and fling yourself back out there to the mercy of the elements.
Let’s face it, that wave is coming whether you like it or not.
My suggestion is that you try to like it.
The only other option is to get out of the water and what fun is that?
About Rebecca Suder