I anticipated that the pace of transition would quicken as we prepare to relocate from Amarillo to somewhere near our granddaughter, her parents and her brothers.
I didn’t quite expect the feeling of anxiety that would come with the speeding up of that transition.
Most of our belongings are stored away in Amarillo; the rest of them are stuffed into our recreational vehicle.
And today, the painters went to work refreshing the interior of the house we used to call “home.” We don’t yet have a timeline on when to expect them to finish. The lead painter vowed to work extra hard to get it done before Christmas. I am in no position to question whether he can get it done.
Anxiety? It’s not serious. It’s just a bit overwhelming — at least it is for me — to watch these men I’ve never seen before scurrying around our house taping windows, masking kitchen cabinets and laying butcher paper over every square inch of our floor.
It seems like just yesterday that the house was where my wife and I hung our hats, where we relaxed with the joy of knowing the property was all ours.
It’s still ours, but we now are calling another place “home” while we prepare for this next big challenge in our life together.
Get a load of this, though: The painters tell us the house is going to look “so good, you won’t want to leave.”
Uh, let me ponder that one.
OK. I just did.
Not a chance. Get to work, fellas.