The Circle Of Life

A story with a happy ending. Something we all want in our lives.

When I moved to this town four and a half years ago, the house I found online was a little white house, the rent was the right amount, and the property presented a clean slate for me to work my artistic side. I took a picture of the little white house from the front and tried several different colors to paint the trim, picking a medium shade of yellow. After painting the trim yellow, I proceeded to the inside, painting each room. The toughest job was spending days outside with my earphones on listening to music while chipping away on the layers of old paint on the garage, sanding and painting a heavy duty outside paint on the garage. It was all satisfying work, including planting seeds for flowers and transplanting some day lilies and purchasing other plants.

Then circumstances caused me to move to an apartment, which was not a good place, so I moved to a duplex and still I did not have my sanctuary. My home must be peaceful and safe. Interestingly, the duplex was two houses from the original little white house with the yellow trim.

Each day I walked or drove by the little house, watching a man working on the outside of the little house. I enjoyed watching the changes he was making as well as the happiness evident in his stance, his gestures, his face, as he put his plans into place. That man passed away and his son and daughter-in-law owned the house.

Some of the neighbors began telling me that they were sharing stories with the current owners of the little house about me, about the work I did while living there, and about the floods and consequently, mildew, I was living with at the duplex. So by the time I approached them about the possibility of me moving back into the little house, we were already on the same page.

A power greater than I could ever be was setting the stage for this rerun, and my watching the improvements being made turned out to be something I was a part of in spirit, as I was being blessed with each hammer strike, each plant put into the earth, each sack of concrete mixed for sidewalks. The work being done was beyond my imagination and I would not want to put that amount of money into a place I don't own.

All these words to say I am in the process of moving back to the little white house. Furniture and boxes being transported TODAY. Everything else is already there and I will spend the night back where I started. I have never "gone back" to anything, was ready to move on, but this was different. My time at the house was interrupted, and now I can resume my life in the serene little "doll house" as one of my friends calls it. Should be settled by this weekend.