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.
18 Comments Add yours
It doesn’t feel right…yet. But it will…but for how long? For the little ones that thought won’t occur to them but for us grown-ups who have a tough time even getting through a day, having a great day is a rarity. There’s really no choice but to muddle through, day by day. It’s not like we really have a choice, with the exception of how we experience change. Right now a little change might be nice!
Not a big fan of change….and yet, at 57, my husband and I are are both embarking this month on new/challenging/scary/exciting professional jobs — he has a new position within the NYT and I’m teaching writing at two colleges. It’s terrifying but also exhiliarating to have some new opportunities for professional growth and intellectual stimulation.
I love that. It’s always amazed me that people think we’re done changing as we get older. That’s precisely the time we have the wisdom to make change matter. Best of luck to both of you!
Thanks! He’s really excited and I am settling into the role of prof again.
I’m a stiff-arm-er, myself, but my bony little arms never seem to stop the change from coming. Life…
Wow, this post hits home right now for me. Amazing how life’s little pats on the back seek you out when you really need them–thank you. 🙂
Very wise observation and reminder for us all. We must learn to embrace the changes to better see where they are trying to take us. Thank you
From seascape to purple…that’s big change. Change is so squirrelly and tight fitting for a while, but you put it perfectly. After a time, we ease in. I usually put on my mental seatbelt and chant, “Change is good. Change is good.” It’s sort of a reluctant “embracing it” process I’m working these days. Great post.
Constant change is here to stay…. (Gulp)
Change. is. hard. We all know it’s inevitable and the only real constant, yet it’s still important to feel the trauma of it too, and sit in it for a bit, so that it can all get better. I write this after an extremely difficult morning of unsuccessfully calming my daughter down about starting grade seven this afternoon. She has dyslexia and school can just be so terrifying. ugh.
Here’s wishing her just enough to make her stronger . . .
I hear you, Faith. I think the purple couch may liven the place up a bit in a way that’s good for us all:). But it’s always sad when favorites move, pass on, etc. You can never recreate that time, can you? No matter how hard you try.
I moved from my beloved neighborhood yesterday afternoon, and I just keep thinking this same exact sentiment. Thank you for sharing this post. I needed to read it today.
Wishing you peace, adventure and joy all rolled into one in your new digs.
Purple is my favorite color — just sayin. But I definitely get the “change” stuff two. My two neighbors both have their townhomes up for sale and I’m a little freaked out.
TWO? I meant TOO. LOL