I have never cared for spring. Cold. Rain. Mud. Perhaps I took it for granted. As everything transitions from dead to re-birth, I see that there is beauty everywhere. As buds form on trees, I see all the colors of fall, albeit much more subtle. I guess I needed to pay attention, and my new eyes have me inspecting everything I used to know. And so it seems appropriate that we have returned home to transition along with nature.
Today we have been home for one month already. We have had the joy of spending extended time with both of our families and catching up with friends when it has worked out. Stress and Transition and eating - lots of eating.
A transitional challenge has been the need for some emotional distance between Susan and myself. As empathic people and married people, we tend to take on the pain or struggle of the other. As we both toil with our unique process of mourning and re-acclimating, I have seen and felt and created the distance. Maybe necessary but it has to be temporary - and indeed the frequency has already begun to wane.
The second challenge for this transition has been a loss of structure and blurring of boundaries. Without any forced organization to our days and weeks, time is going quickly and I find that building structure is up to us. Building a rhythm and pace has been difficult when everything I used to know here just doesn't quite make sense right now.
Joy. Sorrow. Trepidation. Confusion.
But we walk forward as is the only thing we can do. Susan and I have moved in with our generous friends Aaron and Heather in Chicago, but saying goodbye to staying with my parents was surprisingly difficult. We are applying for jobs and trying to be patient with the process. We are blessed with overwhelming offers of generosity from all those we know on a regular basis.
Spring is beautiful, but I am ready for the summer. Transitions are hard and sometimes we make them even harder. Maybe some humid heat will bring peace and comfort.