Nothing Lasts Forever

Do you struggle against impermanence?

I do.

Sometimes I feel as though I’m at the edge of a chasm, and can feel an immense grief wafting up from the depths; pain from loss that hasn’t yet occurred.

It’s hard for humans to grasp: we’re all just passing through.

Yet, in a world of constant change, my mom’s house has always been a steady reliable spot to land.

She’s lived here 31 years. I still remember being 10 years old, seeing the house for the first time, little brother in tow. Expertly guided through the dark wood accented interior – walls bedazzled with gold-flecked mirrors – by our peppy realtor, Lita Gitt.

It was dated then, and it’s really dated now.

One of the bedrooms still has 70s carpet. It’s a chestnut brown color, the shag now matted and tangled. Who knows what “secrets” from the past still lurk, intermingled within the fibers?

For the past 20 years I’ve been landing here, trying to ground and gather my wits in between experiences such as these:

• In my early 20s I stayed here when I moved back to the States after living in Ireland for 3 years
• In my mid 20s I moved in while trying to regain my footing after a breakup
• In my late 20s I was here as I scrimped and saved for my first home
• Then again in my late 30s (ok, 40!) after selling said home, and preparing for the adventure

And guess what folks, I’m back again. Obviously, the adventure is still in full swing; we’re here for the Holidays, trailer maintenance, and to sort things out.

My mom’s house has become a marker, a barometer that measures experience and subsequent growth. Every return sees a different version of me. There’s been shifts and changes – usually for the better – and through it all this place has remained the same.

I associate a change of scenery with growth. For me, it kind of forces and expedites it because a new environment means new experiences. Though perhaps the real growth lies in us being connected enough to ourselves to check in organically – of our own volition –  without needing the push that comes from moving somewhere new.

Either way, I find it comforting that each time I return to this home, I feel closer to my home; I’m reminded I know myself a little bit more.

And in a world of impermanence, it’s always nice to get a chance to return, once again.