St. Joseph did his work. Not in the time limit I’d asked for, but he did the job. Eight weeks after the statue was buried, head down, as directed by the Santerista, the house sold. Yes, for much less than we wanted, but after weighing the choices, we decided to take the offer and move on.
There are big choices to make–should we save money and move ourselves or hire a mover; there are smaller choices to make–exactly how many of the books will fit in the new house? The one we don’t own yet.
Now, as I wander through the house, I see the things that will stay behind. A
few I’m happy to pass on. Several people have asked for the statue of St. Joseph. After all, he’s a proven seller. But what I’m looking at is the memory-makers that may not travel with us. Having survived one floor and one fire, I’ve gotten used to giving up the physical part of the memories, but this is a bit different.
I’m a gardener. Amateur, and certainly not good at creating well-composed spaces. I call myself a “cardiac gardener”–it does my heart good to garden. I like fooling with plants, creating spaces where the unexpected pops up. I’ve learned, time and time again, that once you sell a house, the new owners will want their own garden. What is beloved to me is not to them. And that is at it should be. They will make the house their own.
So I took a few pictures to remember the incredible lilies that came up and up and up. The pear tree, with crisp, firm pears with a faintly floral flavor that taste like nothing I’ve ever purchased at a store. The pears are now the size of apricots, it will be September before they are ready to can and eat.
The hydrangea that almost drowned the first year, and scorched the next. It finally settled down and puffed up this year.
Of course there will be new plants and places in the new home. I’ll probably inherit someone else’s garden or landscaping and make changes. But for now, it is bittersweet to gather memories and get ready for the move across country.
–Quinn McDonald has been living in Arizona 7 months. Her husband will join her next month in a house they haven’t purchased yet. Quinn took the pictures, but she’s also a writer and certified creativity coach.
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Congrats, Quinn! How clever of St Joe to miss the deadline just enough to be passed along to someone else in need, rather than get “kicked upstairs” to a shrine!
—–I’m SO glad you said that. My way of thinking is that I would hate to gather dust when I could be doing some good work; so I’m thinking it’s time to pass him on to someone who needs him and can believe in his powers, too. -Q
Great news about your house and a perfect plan in photographing your garden for visual memories. I have gardened and left my mark in my other homes, and yes, the new owners have always re-arranged. (And even once pulled out heirloom roses that I had carefully tended and lavished with love as if they were children!) But I love the fresh challenge of gardening in new spaces. And how fun – the desert landscape will provide you with all kinds of new plant life and amusement. Desert gardening sounds fascinating.
I AM a little worried about your St. Joe though. Don’t be giving him away!
Seems he’s been promised a special site in the new home… yes?
—-In the full story, I gave St. Joseph a deadline, and he missed it. But only by two weeks! No, I wasn’t being a taskmaster, I wanted to make sure people didn’t say, “Well, if you wait long enough, you can always claim it worked.” Because I am not much one for owning things, I am considering passing him on to someone who will love him and bury him head down in THEIR yard. But he may also wind up in a shrine made of books in my house. -Q
Taking pictures of the things that are close to our hearts is a wonderful idea, especially with regard to the things we need to let go. It somehow makes it easier and the memory is thus documented.
My screen saver shows pictures I have taken over the years; it makes me smile when I see a particular face, flower or event, sometimes even items I would have otherwise forgotten. Technology definitely has advantages.
It is right to say good-by and and be grateful for that which has meant a lot to us. Before having to dispose of a wilted flower, I often say “thank you” to it for the joy and beauty it brought into our home, a practice which stems from my yoga days.
Letting go of the old is, indeed, a bitter-sweet experience; however, making room for the new is probably necessary. The new has its own rewards.
That is very good news Quinn, both for you and your husband and the cats of course.
Now it is about peacefully letting everything go.
—–Oy. That is the HARD part! But I’m up for the challenge! Thanks for reminding me. -Q
Hi Quinn,
I am very happy to hear your house sold!
It sounds like your time away allowed you to develop “new eyes” for your possessions, and will help you move on without some of them more easily.
Major life transitions have been weirdly bittersweet for me, too, even if the decision leading to the transition was logical and easy.
Take care.
Vicky F
—-I’m deeply grateful, but “bittersweet” is a taste all its own.I’m glad I’m not alone in this.
-Q