We joke that we've been homeless for for five months. Actually we've been guests. While we're immensely grateful, it is hard work.
We conform to the toddler's early rising, the big kids' Friday night sleep overs, sharing the kitchen and not grumbling about the menu choices.
Being part of a larger, busier family empties my reserves of flexibility. It's like living in a dorm. But now I'm way too old for the free-flow.
My perspective is decidedly selfish. I want to brew tea in my teapot. The family's Pandora radio station sounds like Muzak. I sigh to myself when all of the muffins I made yesterday are gone this morning. I'm no longer amused when somebody "borrows" the bathroom space heater.
For months life has felt like jumping from ice floe to ice floe. We need an anchor. We long for our old routines and leisurely quiet mornings. We miss taking care of just ourselves.
The need for the structure independent living affords is great: my chores, my way of doing them, maintaining our sanctuary.
Looming cancer treatment and whatever toll it will take on my husband make us feel it's imperative to find "home." It's urgent we create a new normal.
Most of the future is unsure, beyond our control, rendering us helpless to make long term plans. When we move into our condo next week we hope it will be a fortress where we regain energy for the tough times ahead.
Craving routine is normal. Blogger Brianna Wiest said "The point is not what the routine consists of, but how steady and safe your subconscious mind is made through repetitive motion and expected outcomes."
Having a few expected outcomes--finding the muffin is still there, that there's hot water for my shower, sounds good. I can't wait.
