verge (vʉrj)
the edge, brink, or margin (of something): also used figuratively the verge of the forest, on the verge of hysteria

to tend or incline (to or toward)
to be in the process of change or transition into something else; pass gradually (into) dawn verging into daylight

Sunday, January 6, 2013

Moving On

This morning the house was quiet, as if normal.  It caught my attention enough that I just sat down and listened to it. I've had so many things to do these last few months--students to teach, clients to see, a house to sell, boxes to pack.  My only writing has been in the form of daily lists on sticky notes.  It's felt good to let go of the words.  But here they are again, emerging out of the morning's pause, a bit awkward, a bit unintentional.

The house is nearly empty.  We arrived here all at once but have left slowly over the years, each of us going one at a time. As I looked out across the morning hill, I heard the echoes of so many stories here--young girls who grew up so well, beloved pets who died here, birthday and graduation celebrations, summer camps and trampoline talks, stories of joy and of grief, of deer and foxes and of birds on the feeders, of proms, pianos, parties, and partings...

I let the stories unfold in my memory. There are so many I cherish. As I sat, I silently thanked this house for holding so much of our lives within its walls these last fourteen years, and for being both gracious and sturdy during good times and bad.  As I gather the last bits and traces of our former lives here, it is a peaceful parting.  We are all done here--our work finished. Our memories come along with us while we leave small treasures behind--stones and seashells, a bird house or two, the tire swing.  May many happy stories unfold in the next chapter of this house's life.  May hope and happiness thrive here.

As I move on, I am eager to learn some new routines and to make new discoveries. What will work and what won't?  What did I get rid of that I need and what don't I need that I kept? I have no idea what's ahead but I'm not too worried. I packed hope and courage in one of the boxes.  It's here, somewhere.

See you down the road.


  1. Beautifully told. Let us know where you land!

  2. Hi Alice,
    This is Rebecca (the one owned by Candy and Mojo!) I just saw this post on Facebook and just wanted to let you know that it's lovely and actually very appropriate for us right now. We've had some sad news from the vet this week regarding Mojo. Completely unexpectedly, we've discovered that he is suffering from advanced cancer. The signs were very few, but as you know, he isn't really a complainer! We want to thank you so much for taking such good care of the dogs for us. We only wish you could have known them for longer. It's been such a comfort to know that we have you to rely on and that you take such loving care of them. I know we'll be in touch with you in the future and good luck with your move!
    Rebecca and The Ranneys

  3. Oh Rebecca...hugs to Mojo and Candy--and all of you. Mojo is truly special--as is your relationship with him. You are such gifts to each other. I am thinking of you now, and wishing Mojo peace and comfort. Thank you for letting me know. I will keep him close in my thoughts.