A year ago this week I had accepted an offer on the sale of my house and was beginning to pack in earnest. Any chance of turning back was gone. I really was going to quit my job, leave my friends, move across the country and in with my mother. I just looked back on some of my private blog entries and can hardly believe I did all of that. And only a year ago. It seems like a lifetime.
The plan was to stay with Mama for a year, July to July―or September. My gap year, I was calling it. The intention was to spend the time figuring out what was next for Mama and transitioning her into it; at the same time I figured out what was next for me. Things have been foggy as I approach the end of the year. We realized that what is best for Mama, and doable in some yet-to-be-revealed way, is that she stay in the house on the hill―her home for more than 50 years. But then what of me? Very foggy indeed.
My April 15, 2012 post was titled “Desperately Seeking Revelation.” I just read it; I’m not sure why I named it that. But over the past 10 months, I have not desperately sought revelation. I have just plugged along, figuring that what was next would be revealed in its time. It usually is.
And now it has been, once again. Here’s how it went. I applied for a dream job in February…dream except for the part where I would have to live in Seattle and wouldn’t be able to afford to; and the part where I wasn’t sure I wanted to work as hard as it would require, even though the job was so fabulous I would have. I also had previously applied for a small job in Seattle that I assumed wouldn’t require that I move since the hours were few, nor that I would have to work too hard at.
Both places delayed making a decision, or even contacting me, well beyond when they indicated they would. But it came all at once, when I was visiting in North Carolina earlier this month. The dream job said “no,” not even an interview; the next day I was invited for an interview for the small job when I got back home. The day after my return, my sisters and I met with an elder law attorney and found out the best way to insure we don’t lose the house if Mama should have to apply for Medicaid (which she probably won’t), and which would also keep it out of probate when she dies, is if I live with her for two years―14 more months. Then it can be deeded to me, and then I can deed 1/3 to each of my sisters. (Who knew that little quirk in the law?) Yesterday (Thursday) I was offered the small job, after learning at the interview not only can nearly all of it (not just some of it) be done from home, it has to be; there is no office.
I think that qualifies for “I will know what is next when it’s time.” I have accepted the job (I start on Sunday); and I re-upped for another year on the hill with Mama. And she is grateful and has agreed to deed the house to her daughters so that we can decide its disposition when it’s time; a 180 degree reversal from “the house has to be sold,” and her plan, which I have ignored, that this past year be spent getting it ready (which, with her “assistance” would have taken 10 years). I don’t know what the next year will look like: what will change, what will stay the same. But the frame is in place now; I will paint the picture a layer at a time as illumination comes.
I had a nightmare this week, one that actually resolved itself at the end, which seems rare in a nightmare. In the dream, I didn’t know the particulars of the resolution, but I had a peace that all would be well.
And the moon rose full last night, over the wispy valley fog, and shone across my bed.