Enough changes in three years… the end of my marriage, loss of both my parents … now I am adding retirement and moving to the litany. Which puts me at the top of the list for a heart-attack or some such stress-related fallout, I’m told.
But luckily I am one of those people who is energized by the idea of change… although perhaps not always by the work involved in bringing it about.
In mid-summer I move to Vancouver Island, closer to my daughter (and only child) and her family, to a small somewhat shabby rented one-bedroom apartment while I decide where I really want to be. What I want to do. Who I want to be in this, my next ‘new’ life.
Which means sorting, culling, clearing out and reducing.
Which means going through all my books and sorting out which ones I REALLY need to keep. My criteria is 1) Those I KNOW I will read again, 2) Those that are least likely to be perennially available at libraries, 3) Those that have sentimental or significant meaning to me.
The writing-related books are different. I can admit that many on my shelves I have not actually read. Picked through, perhaps. Lent out to others.
I have managed to reduce their numbers from four shelves to two by giving away handfuls to my writing group members and students in recent classes.
I know that somewhere down the line I will be looking for one of them, only to find I have given it away. But hopefully, there will be other writers in my life, ones I leave behind here on the Lower Mainland or new ones I meet on Vancouver Island, who will help me find what I’m looking for, and help me find my way as I make new connections, find a place in my new community, and take on new projects and challenges.