Am I home yet?

What happens when you lose your inspiration to write a story?

The joy has been sapped. The excitement gone. It feels like pulling teeth. Well moving to Southern California has felt the same. Although I knew the reality, I packed for a vacation that I’d never return. The joy and excitement of being with my grandchildren was a bonus. But after a couple of weeks of fun and games, “Is this where I live now?” My belongings followed me about three weeks later around the same time my car arrived. Reality set in as the summer’s scorching heat melted my spirit. Everything I owned was in a box in the garage. I wanted to sit out there in my office chair to contemplate my life in boxes. The oven like space made it impossible. I just wanted one suitcase. It seemed everything I needed was in that suitcase now in a box in the garage among 80 other boxes. When I needed toothpaste. When I needed my black jeans. When I wanted my Kindle to read books. “Its in the suitcase in a box in the garage” became my mantra. Finally, I started replacing items I couldn’t find. My quilting supplies. Toothpaste. Hand towel. Laundry bags. Fortunately, I located items I needed. Paper cutting scissors. My crate of books to sell. My television found its way to my room. I squeezed my office chair and folding desk table into my room. I checked out books from the library. 

The heat of summer waned. With fall approaching I wanted my black jeans with matching black shoes. I finally had more spending money, so I bought new ones. For my birthday, I had bought books as a present to myself. My daughter out of state had sent me two boxes of books. When it came to reading, I was a happy camper. Unfortunately, the new black jeans didn’t fit. I held out that the pair in the suitcase still fit. 

One sunny fall day, my daughters went through the garage digging away at the boxes. Miraculously, the suitcase was found. It was like I had won the lottery. I screamed for joy. I now had my reading light, my lap desk, my quilting projects, my bible, my black jeans! Alas, they didn’t fit either. My small bookshelf was dug out and went into the empty closet. I had somewhere to put my books. My printer showed up and went on top of the bookshelf. The girls found a picture frame I needed. I was overjoyed. It was better than Christmas. I had stopped fighting the move. It didn’t feel like pulling teeth anymore. 

That same weekend, I found a friend from back home, SF East Bay Area, at an event nearby. She had moved south a few years earlier. She was delighted to see me and wondered why I came to see her at the book reading. It was wonderful to see my friend. We’re both SoCal girls now. I believed I was finally home and I still had all my teeth.