The Life That is Waiting

"We must be willing to get rid of the life we've planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us."  

(Joseph Campbell)

I bought these flowers last week from my favourite plant nursery, the Vale Stables in Meanwood. I discovered the nursery when I was going for a walk with two of my friends last year, along the ridge of woodland in between Meanwood and Woodhouse, heading towards Meanwood Park.
It's absolutely charming, like a nature trail where the specimens are for sale, with plants in teapots and boots and a chair made out of horseshoes. At the centre of it all the people who run the nursery sit round an outdoor stove hanging out and drinking tea. They also sell firewood, and I'm sure I remember there being chickens roaming around at one point. On one visit I saw a cat who was the *spitting image* of a cat I used to know. 

I've been talking about moving house for a while now, but I now have a house to move to and a date to move in. The new house is in Meanwood, a hop, skip and a jump away from the woods and the nursery, and it's ours from mid May.

We'll have a cellar to keep our wine in, and I'll finally have the attic bedroom I've been dreaming of since I left home nearly nine years ago. The two alcoves in the living room could have been made for my pair of 6ft bookcases. There's a lovely light bathroom I can grow houseplants in, which is something I've been longing for after living in a house with a bathroom with an extractor fan instead of a window for the last seven years.

But in order to move into this new house that is waiting, I have to leave behind my home of seven years. This house has seen me through so much, so many relationships have begun and ended whilst I've lived here, so many housemates have moved in and out.  The cliched "good times and bad" and the weight of everything I have lived through here is suddenly pressing heavily on my heart.

I have a month to work out how to give this part of my life the respectful goodbye it deserves, before moving on to the life that is waiting. I want to take it all with me, in case I leave the wrong things behind. I want to hold on to every last memory, everything every person ever said to me in this house, every regret and every celebration.
I've spent the past seven years building a shrine to the person I promised myself I would become but now I finally have a chance dismantle it, and build something new.