I saw a purple couch being moved into my neighbor’s house this afternoon. Purple. The most recent inhabitants of this house, Hugh and his lovely wife Doris, would have had a fit. Having lived in that house since it was built, they had a certain vision for what it should look like. And purple couches did not figure into the picture at all.
Purple couches weren’t their thing. They were more of a china hutch, beige sofa and seascape painting kind of family. With a 50s-style Formica table thrown in there somewhere.
Watching that purple couch go in the front door—well, it just did not feel right. I’m not ready for that purple couch. Just as I was not ready to see the Formica table and seascape painting go to the thrift store in a truck. I’m still missing Hugh every time I walk by that house.
My son started high school last week. He leaves the house to catch the bus before his younger brother is even awake. There is no drive to school with both of them, preparing for the day ahead.
I have to admit—just doesn’t feel right.
My youngest has begun his school year without the usual daily chatter about what he and his friend Jack did at after-school care. Jack has moved to San Francisco. When I asked him how things were going, he said, “Pretty good, Mom. But I miss Jack. It just doesn’t feel right not having him there.”
Yep. I get it, buddy.
The difference between my 10-year-old and me is that I have the wisdom of experience. And I know, despite this very uncomfortable feeling, that at some point things will feel right. Or I’ll make changes to put us in a situation that will make them feel right.
Very little fits like a glove from the get-go. And when you find those rare people, experiences or places that do, you hold on for dear life. The irony is–very few of those experiences last a lifetime.
Some of us stiff-arm change. Others curl up into a ball and cry. And a sage few assume a “ready” position, rolling with the change until it lands us somewhere. Perhaps even enjoying new scenery along the way.
But most of us have to struggle through the “doesn’t feel right” stage, unsettling as it can sometimes be.
So let me add a simple word to the title of this post.
It does not feel right . . . yet.
But it will.