Posted by: pendrops | August 5, 2007

new shadows


Jason and I recently moved (which, on a sidenote, is one of the reasons you haven’t heard from me lately). It was a good move, complete with labeled boxes, fast movers, and a cool breeze to aid us on multiple trips up three flights. But for all the goodness, I still feel disoriented, discombobulated, a stranger in my own life.

For starters, I still wake up wondering where I am, not recognizing the new bedroom where Jason and I sleep, blinking and searching the room as light filters through our old curtains in unfamiliar patterns, casting new shadows.

But, again, don’t get me wrong. The new shadows are good. And the move needed to happen. No longer do we have various and sundry children bounding above us, dropping their toy anvils and running best-of-five foot races overhead, nor do we have bump cars thumping out gangsta tunes directly outside our window countless times a day, nor do we have the oblivious family below slamming doors and shaking the entire building throughout the day, nor do we have the multitude of other annoyances.

We have peace, quiet, a happy little love nest…and new annoyances. Large, woodsy spiders, for one, that have taken up residence on our deck, keeping our miniature patio furniture-less and us happily inside observing their nocturnal spinning. And we have an overtly angry and possibly dangerous across-the-hall neighbor. And we have about forty-square-feet less of space, which is not a huge deal since Jason and I have simplified and reduced, but still poses some challenges.

But don’t hear me complaining. Have I mentioned it’s good, this move, this new place. Woodsy spiders and all. It’s good. That’s what I keep telling myself. So, why do I feel so strange? So out of place? So restless?

I’ve been thinking on this the past few days, even doing a little research on moods. Come to find out it’s normal to experience a letdown after so much anticipation toward a momentous event like moving. Some of my resources even said it’s possible to experience acute depression from this type of life change.

Still, with plenty of psychologists confirming that my emotions were normal, I believed there was something deeper, something more. So, instead of the Internet, I searched my soul. And there I found discontentment. The feelings were real, understandable, even warranted. But something uglier, something we all wrestle with in some form and fashion, was showing its repulsive face again. My discontentment, my unreachable expectations, my fears.

But then last night, the sun flung its fleeting rays, amber and golden, into our living room just before it set beyond the gentle hill and vast foliage outside our window, shrouding the room in warm light, while the sky blazed like fire. I took a breath in and out as the glow washed over me; settled, at peace, OK for the moment with the unexpected, frustrating and discomforting new elements.

And I tasted briefly of contentment, trying my best to remember what someone said about the secret of contentedness, in plenty, in want, and in new apartments.



  1. Well said.

    Contentment is important, but I’m gonna give it my all to fend off the spiders (except for the one or two I’ve befriended).

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