Today is my last day of government employment. After 30 years in library management and public service, I will be self-employed. I'm insomniac, scared, sick to my stomach and....relieved. I don't know what I'm going to do in the long term, and I don't know if the short-term plans are realistic, personally or financially; but I do know that I've been whinging about my job and my life for far too long. It's time to start acting on my dreams.
A few months ago I asked the Universe for the perfect house-sitting gig. A month ago, the Universe responded. I will be taking care of the 98-year-old mother of a musician friend of a friend. E-mom is in good health (no need for drugs, able to walk and read and make her own bed) but frail, and her short-term memory is shot. She needs to have someone around 24/7 to make sure that she doesn't wander off, leave stoves burning, or otherwise harm herself. E-daughter travels for her gigs, and is only home for 5-9 days a month. They recently moved to a musicians' cooperative in the Ortiz Mountains, near Cerrillos NM.
I spent the last 10 days of September scoping it out. I applied for a leave of absence, but didn't expect to have it okayed, since it's not my Mom and not my emergency need. And I found out yesterday that, indeed, they will not okay it. So...this is it. I'm truly moving on.
In those initial days, most of my time was spent working on my taxes and going through papers. And driving E-mom to the doctor, to church, to Great Clips; shopping for groceries, cooking meals, unpacking, getting to know the co-op members, beginning to love my new home. The stars, the sunsets, the hummingbirds, the ever-present view of mountains and clouds, the peace: if only there were an ocean, it would be the home of my dreams.
The pace is slow: I start out with 40 minutes of Tai Chi Chih, followed by the NYT crossword and a cup of coffee on the back patio (aka, portale.) Then I log E-mom into her gmail and help her through the process of finding new messages, reading them, and writing back. I do my own projects, bobbing up to help her find the correct delete key. I finally cover up the numpad with a piece of paper, but she peeks beneath it to get confused again by the fact that the delete key there doesn't work.
Lunch is usually a salad or fruit and cheese. "I only eat two meals a day you know." "Yes, this is just a snack." The afternoon is for errands or more sitting around the house, reading, writing, cleaning. I bake a cake, make some bread. I try to locate a backup caregiver so I'm not stuck here 24/7. This is one of the things that E-daughter was unable to take care of before she left, and it has the entire cooperative irritated. They do not want to be my backup (and they can't be: they work and are often gone themselves), nor do they want me to be stranded and burned out within in a month.
Dinner is technically not my concern: it's cooked by coop members in turn and eaten communally at the casita/main house. But, I'm here, I have time, and I like to cook. Or rather, bake. So, I'm involved in that as well. And I'm enjoying the people. They are friendly, talented, supportive. One of them recently bought a tenor viol and promised me the use of it, along with some lessons and consort playing. You can't get much better than that, although I'm a little trepidatious: these are professional musicians after all. But they are kind, too.
The day ends back at the "pod" for some reading. A hug goodnight, and it's bedtime.
If I didn't feel like I needed to remain connected to my ABQ friends and play in musical groups, it would be an ideal retreat and time for healing. But, I do need to remain connected (don't I?), and I do need some alone time, other than the time I spend asleep. So, the big recurring problem is daily personal time. How do I get my exercise? (I want to walk in these mountains.) How do I manage to attend rehearsals and concerts? (It's a 45 minute commute to Santa Fe for the choral group, and 90 minutes to Albquerque for the Orchestra. And a 2-3 hour rehearsal in between). When will I be able to spend time with my boyfriend? Will I ever get laid again? Will I ever meet a love of my life? Do I want to?
I have to be realistic about these questions. But right now, it seems like this is what I need: a quiet life, a few congenial companions, a beautiful place to live. Maybe I should just drop the musical groups and attempts to maintain my friendships. They don't really need me or miss me. Although G stopped by for an afternoon, it's not something I can ask of people regularly. So, perhaps this is just another moving on. I left my friends in PDX, now I'm leaving my life in ABQ.
I've been back in ABQ for a few days, finishing up at work. Today is my final walkthrough (you walk through City Hall with a piece of paper and various departments sign it and take away your keys and computer accounts and insurance benefits and city ID, and then you are not allowed to go back to your job site.) It feels unreal: I'm no longer at home in my partially dismantled casita, I no longer have projects to do at work. I am finished with this phase of my life. And although the Director came by yesterday to make sure I really want to do this, and to give me a hug, I don't feel like anyone will miss me. C'est fini.
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