Forward Motion
Posted by FunkyPlaid | Filed under Emotion, Frivolity, Musing, Personal
Dear Last Day of the Year:
So much has happened between us and your many forebears that I barely have the words to express how overfull of emotion I am at the prospect of leaving. It’s been one wild ride, and I’ll never forget all the changes you and your ilk have brought to my life. We’ve enjoyed both great and hollow days together, and like many fruitful relationships, I will sometimes regret the space that you will leave me with. But there are things ahead for which I do not think that you are prepared, and it is a noble thing that we do on this night to make the transition easier for both of us. We owe it to each other.
You’d been listening to me threaten to leave home so many times. And as comfortable as you tried to make me, including all of your scheming together with that promiscuous minx San Francisco, with her gorgeous food, hotbed of technology, and pendulous foghorns, it felt like it was all a disingenuous ruse to get me to hang my many hats there forever. Every time I left the house, I was frustrated by all the negative feedback. You tried to tell me that it didn’t matter, that as long as I stuck with the comfy routine it would all smooth out. But it didn’t, and I resented you for it. I was tired of staying indoors with all of that beautiful weather just beyond the threshold. It’s true: your home was lovely. Our days together were incredibly busy, but fascinatingly fun. And you really do have the best friends of anyone I know. (Feel free to forward my new address to them if you don’t mind.) But you, my dear, have done quite enough – consciously or not – to ensure that I remember why I stayed, and also to understand why I must go.
As it comes to the end, however, I want you to know what great things you brought to me, because that is what will stay with me after tomorrow, and also what will remain in my consciousness as your great importance in my life. You deserve to know this, because you helped it happen.
We had a year of passion, of hedonism, and of projected nostalgia. It seemed like every night was filled with a new taste or smell, and even with all of the activities we playfully noted down upon your deliciously flat stomach, it still didn’t feel like we got to spend enough time with everyone whom we loved so much. We certainly played much more than we argued, but I couldn’t get rid of the feeling that each meeting might very well be the last (my fault more than yours). Through all of this, you kept a straight face, and soldiered on like this was how it was going to be…forever. That total acceptance did so much for my confidence, and you couldn’t have possibly known that it would actually bolster my final decision. How selfless of you, in retrospect!
Last Day, you remind me this very instant that I was worth everything I dreamed. You made many things easier during the process. Sure, some of this was by sheer fortuitousness, but it wouldn’t be right not to ensure that you get the credit for much of it. You introduced me to great new friends and reminded me about the old ones upon whom I could really rely to help out. You took care of my loved ones while I was deep in internal transition, and made sure I had the time and space to be in close contact with them through the whole thing. And, perhaps most important of all, you showed me a brand-new, rich, green playground in which to spend my downtime, and I loved it so much that I decided to stay a while. You did a good thing for me, with good intention, and I’m sorry that there’s not enough room to bring you along. In the long-term, I honestly think you wouldn’t be happy here. And I really do want you to be happy, with or without me.
How can I ever thank you enough for these things? Well, Last Day, I thank you by moving on and no longer being a burden for you to manage. I hope you won’t linger behind, because I’ll be looking ahead. The future is so very bright for me now, and I’ll always remember your contributions that helped get me to this point. I won’t see you tomorrow, but I’ll be singing our favorite song for many Last Days to come.
-FP
Tags: friends, holiday, Home/Hearth, Melancholy, new year, Plans, San Francisco, Scotland, Wistful, Writing
Hail, Hail, Kale
Posted by FunkyPlaid | Filed under Gamescape, History, Home/Hearth, Meta, Musing, Pets, Scotland
Without a normalized schedule of daily operations, time goes by much faster than what is comfortable for me. It’s an ironic fact that one wishes not to go into work every day in order to make time for other things; the truth is that the world expands to fill the gap. It’s a busy but happy life just now as Cygnoir and I settle into our first proper winter since we were children. Scotland is such a place where you can actually feel the rain start to harden into hail and then further into ice, and then just over your shoulder is a hole of clear blue in the sky and a rainbow spanning the gap. All of these things happened today at once. But because it gets dark so incredibly early at this time of the year, it’s often difficult to see it all before it turns to pitch. We both have fallen into the rather studenty routine of staying up until silly-o’clock and then getting up late enough to have missed the majority of daylight. And it will only get darker in the coming months, so it’s a good thing that we’ve got a cupboard full of tea and plenty of lovely warm radiators, supplemented by two unbelievably-happy cats who like to cuddle.
And though I always feel a bit geriatric talking about those two, there is no doubt that they are small, furry lights in our lives and we’re oh-so-happy that they made the transatlantic move with such ease. They first met already past their prime; both are the same age and have always been only-children and indoor animals. Moving them in together when Cygnoir came to Le Chateau was a shock, and though cats adapt to change pretty well, it was a case of one moving into another’s space for the first time, and it showed in their interaction. A cordiality grew over the years, but never a camaraderie. Now, after a stressful trip together and an equal number of jowl-rubs on items throughout the new flat, they’ve been closer than ever before – and maybe even a little bit like friends. The fact that we can all be in the same bed together is a real treat, and we’re feeling like proud parents who have painstakingly ironed out long-standing familial differences. The truth is that we’ve done very little except give them a new home, the same thing we’ve been given.
Tags: cats, Culross, Edinburgh, gardening, holidays, Home/Hearth, Plans, projects, Scotland, Volunteering
