Harvest Moon

I watched the Harvest Moon rise over the hills from the porch this evening, the last time I will see that pretty sight from that vantage point. Next year someone else will have the privilege. About an hour earlier I signed the forms to accept the offer for the house. 

It is a day of severe ambivalence. I managed to secure several offers after only two days of showings and got a good fair price for the house, all despite the rather odd market. The buyers were willing to be flexible about the closing date to give me time to find a new place. They even included a nice note introducing their family along with the offer. I think the house will be in good hands. That’s all for the good. 

In order to make the introduction note personal they looked up the owners of record and addressed it to David and Barbara. They said they hoped we would find a home as nice as the one we are leaving behind. They had no idea that I am not just leaving the house, I am leaving “we” too. Selling the house is in part a forced acknowledgment that “we” now only exist in the past tense. It is the biggest artifact we created, and also the one I am forced to leave behind at the scene of the wreck.  When signing the offer, I had to face the boilerplate form with two signature slots for the sellers. I felt like writing something in the second one, but restrained myself.

It has been a wrenching, breakdown infested week, and getting this house behind me has been emotionally exhausting. Tonight I fell asleep on the couch while trying to watch some television, and then when I got up to go to bed I was too agitated to go to sleep. I walked from room to room looking at that bright moon and the stars on this clear night, trying to take in the views a few more times before I leave them behind.

Despite that bright Harvest Moon there will be no harvest this fall. This has been a year of fallow fields, of plowing my grief back into the soil, of very little rest and very slow recovery. Still, it looks like I will soon finally reach that clean canvas I have been looking forward to.

The Demolition Phase is almost over, as the pieces have nearly settled to the floor on the business side of my life as well. They need to settle soon, because I have to start looking for a place to live, and that requires me to know what my working arrangements are going to be. It really looks like the two big pieces, the house sale and the work side will be resolved within a week or two of each other. I saw this coming together months ago, but hardly believed it would work out that cleanly.

Next month, I will dance with my team at the Harvest Ale, still shaky, and still driving that grief into the ground. I will somehow muddle through the upcoming dark anniversary season, and the holidays at the new temporary place. I will winter over somewhere, somehow.

But next spring, I will plant.

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One Response to Harvest Moon

  1. Pingback: Wind Shifts As the Seasons Change | An Unwelcome Journey

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